Finding True Happiness
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Hermione needed romance; Peeves needed a willing virgin. One lonely; one bored. Could they make magic together? Warning: Many lemons. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money from this.
1. The Ghost's Mistress

"The Ghost's Mistress"

Hermione gasped as she half-rose off her bed. It had been happening for a number of weeks now. The first time she thought she had just been dreaming, but after the second, third, fourth… heck, she had lost count!

It couldn't have been Harry, since he was happily with Luna Lovegood. It could have been someone who had borrowed his Invisibility Cloak, or someone who had Disillusioned themselves. She honestly didn't know who this mysterious provider of pleasure was, though she rather hoped that it _was_ her secret admirer. Otherwise it would just be… creepy.

On the face of it, though, it _was_ creepy. An invisible person was sneaking into her private bedroom once a week to bring her off.

Actually, that had stopped a few weeks ago. It had decreased to every few days, and was now almost every night. The nights she missed the phantom hand were not nearly as fun. She tried by herself, but it was no use. Something was missing.

_The other person_, she thought.

"Tell me who you are," she whispered. The fingers continued to stroke her. "P-please." Her breathing grew harsher again as he (or was it a she?) thrust faster and deeper. Her hips bucked as she drew close once more. "Oh, gods, _please_! Is this just for fun?"

"No!" a voice said. Hermione gasped and looked around, trying to work out where it had come from. She could almost recognise it. One thing was for certain: it was a male.

"Then… if you really care about me won't you tell me who you are?" Silence. "Plea… oh, sweet f…"

"That's it," the voice coaxed as Hermione's inner muscles fluctuated. The thrusts were harder, her pants grew louder, and then she exploded for the third time that night. Her arousal spilled out all over the covers, further soaking them with something other than sweat and tears. Tears of frustration and tears of joy.

"A-at least touch me somewhere else," she begged. "How will I know that this isn't just lust for you… if you only come here for one thing?" Silence again. She sighed. "Forget it. But if I'm to move on from you will you at least…"

Then she was flat on her back, pinned there by the mystery person, her mouth captured in a ferocious kiss. She couldn't even draw breath as her lips were forced apart. A tongue met hers almost instantly, and as they kissed she shut her eyes in bliss. She moaned deep in her throat as the weight of the body pressed against hers, phantom hands holding her down, cold lips caressing her own.

Had Hermione opened her eyes just then she would have seen her mystery admirer, if only briefly. By the time he pulled back from her, however, he was once again invisible.

She sat bolt upright, gazing around the room.

"I wish you'd trust me," she whispered. "Haven't I shown _you_ trust all this time?" No one spoke. Her gaze wandered to the flowers on her bedside table. "The daisies are lovely. Did you leave these for me?"

There was a pause, then: "Yes."

"Why do I recognise your voice? Do you go to Hogwarts?"

But then she had an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, and knew at once that he had left.

She sighed. Things had started off so differently.

At least she had finally heard his voice.

How had it all begun?

* * *

Peeves felt like ramming his head into the wall. Sure, he had planned to tell her who he was someday – that was inevitable. But then he had started to grow feelings… and that had ruined everything. Now he felt guilty, something that had never happened before.

A few centuries ago someone had told him that a poltergeist could take on any human form they liked if they deflowered a maiden with great powers. It had to be consensual, of course, but then Peeves – for all his faults – would never resort to rape. That was why he was going to the trouble of wooing Hermione.

There had been powerful witches before her, of course. However, it wasn't until recently that he felt like giving up his 'job' as the poltergeist of Hogwarts. What with the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes making students much better pranksters his life had less meaning. In fact, he had no life (on more than one level).

Once he had acknowledged this fact he decided to court Hermione Granger. Not only was she the smartest and most powerful witch of her age, but she was also the Head Girl, and thus had her own rooms.

The first test was to see if she really was a virgin. He couldn't imagine her as anything else; and, after he fingered her to climax the first time he could tell that she had never even touched herself before, let alone had someone else do that.

The next morning he left her a bunch of tulips that he had picked.

He didn't always give her flowers, of course (there were other presents, too); but they both enjoyed the nightly visits so much that he stepped up the number of them per week. The other advantage of this was that he was now sure that she would save herself for her… what was it called? That's right. For her 'secret admirer'.

Yet now he had spoken. How long would it take for her to work it out?

Worse than that, he had kissed her. And he had liked it. And he had become visible momentarily, though thankfully she had missed it.

He groaned, sinking his head into his hands.

He hadn't anticipated this. Not at all.

**

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**

A crazy idea that I've had. The next few chapters – I think – will mainly be flashbacks to Peeves' wooing of Hermione, perhaps with some flashes to 'real' time. Then we'll go from the end of this chapter onwards, okay?

**This is AU, probably non-canon from the sixth book onwards, and Peeves will become more than just a cheeky sod. He will have 'depth'.**

**Now, if you want to check on his own powers go and read the article about him on the Harry Potter Wiki or on the Harry Potter Lexicon. He's able to make himself invisible and can handle solid objects; thus his ability to touch Hermione without her seeing him. And there's some other stuff, too.**

**If this story isn't going to be for you then PLEASE stop reading it, and for Merlin's sake don't flame. The pairing has been made clear by now so there's no excuse for whingeing about content/pairing/etc. Just strap yourself in for a different kind of ride.**

**See you next chapter!**


	2. Hermione Receives a Present

"Hermione Receives a Present"

_The courting commences_

She was a wondrous sight, splayed out on her bed like some offering to a god. Thankfully she was dressed in a nightgown: easier access.

Peeves flew down, having made himself invisible for this, and lifted the hem. Good. Only her underwear had to be removed. He gently lifted the fabric up to her waist, his gaze lingering on her covered breasts, and then reached for her drawers.

He dived back as she shifted in her sleep. Fortunately she settled down quickly, and he was finally able to feel her.

Such warmth. It was… delicious. He'd never taken the time to touch a student for any reason other than to push them into a cupboard or something. Now he was glad that he had saved the experience for this girl.

Unlike other ghosts he didn't automatically freeze her, which was just as well; he fully intended to enjoy this even if she turned out not to be The One. With a wicked smile he pulled down her underwear. As he pulled them over her feet she kicked, giggling. Clearly he had tickled her.

This was becoming far more enjoyable than he had anticipated.

He tossed the scrap of fabric aside, not caring where it landed, and bent over to smell her.

"Mmm." He took a deep breath. "Nice." Gods, was it tempting to taste her. But that would be impossible, so he did what he came to do.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed as he pushed two fingers into her. She parted her legs further, eyes still closed. "What on… mmm… oh, my…" She rocked her hips against his hand. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, deep red and she was clutching the bedclothes. "W-what _is_ th…? Ah!"

She muttered for the next few minutes until she was bucking, causing his fingers to sink deeper inside. Peeves wished that he could take her now, but she had to be conscious as well as willing. Besides, he wanted her to know what was happening.

If her reddened cheeks hadn't already told him what he needed to know, the barrier he felt spoke plenty. She was definitely pure. Hopefully she would remain so until he could remedy that.

At last she cried out, tensing at first and then releasing. She shuddered and shivered where she lay, and he could see that she had finally woken up. But she dropped off to sleep again almost immediately, probably exhausted. After observing her sleeping form for a few minutes, the blush fading gradually, Peeves left.

He grinned. She wasn't so pure now.

* * *

Waking up to soaked sheets was an unusual experience, especially as Hermione could swear that she'd worn her knickers beneath her nightie. And yet… there they were, at the end of her bed!

It was the end of the first week of classes and Hermione had had a wicked dream the night before, where an invisible hand had done things to her no one had ever done before. She'd felt an intense pleasure that erupted in a bone-melting wave of satisfaction. But she had to have been asleep, right? It was just too strange for it not to have been a dream.

As she rolled over to get her wand and cast a Cleansing Charm she gasped. There on her bedside table was a small pile of tulips. She transfigured her glass into a vase, filled it with water and began to arrange the tulips as nicely as she could, all the while wondering who had left them. There was no note…

Perhaps it was just a customary present for a new Head Girl. But that didn't seem quite right.

Hopefully it wasn't from Ernie MacMillan, the Head Boy. Her room was warded against unauthorised entry, but he could have replaced the wards had he been able to break them.

She checked. They had her magical signature in place; no one else's.

So how did her gift-giver get in?

And what had brought on that insanely erotic dream?

* * *

Was it worth the ridicule of going to the Gryffindor ghost? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington knew how to pursue women, but he was also a dreadful gossip. Not only would the rest of the ghosts know by nightfall but the headmaster would, too, and Peeves didn't want to get into trouble.

A poltergeist seducing a virgin? Yeah, `cause that wouldn't get him kicked out…

Peeves floated around the school – invisible again – to study the portraits of couples. He tried to recall everything he teased students about when it came to Valentine's Day.

Wait a minute. Valentine's Day! He just had to remember what students gave each other.

"Cards," he muttered, staring out one of the windows, "flowers, jewellery, sweets. Flowers I can do." He sighed. "But the other things…"

Could he steal something for her? No. He couldn't leave the school, and things would sure as hell go belly-up if Hermione started receiving 'stolen goods' from someone. That wasn't the way to win her co-operation, either.

Aha! He knew one thing that he could do.

* * *

Waiting outside the Potions classroom, Hermione, Ron and Harry talked. She very carefully left out her strange dream. She did mention the flowers casually, trying to divert their attention from Ginny's depression (as she refused to discuss the reason with them), but her boys immediately went on the alert.

"They were just flowers!" she insisted. "The war is _over_, or had you forgotten that? No one's out to hurt me."

"Well, did you check them first?" Harry asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She hadn't. She'd still been too dazed from her strange night. But there was still no need to tell them about it.

"See?" Ron said, pointing at her. "Hermione, you should go to Madame Pomfrey."

"No," she said. "We've got class in a few minutes."

"I agree with Potter," Malfoy said. The trio glared at him. He merely smirked back. "Why would anyone give _her_ flowers? Who'd want her?"

Hermione scowled at him, but grabbed her friends' hands. "Don't," she whispered.

"It's true," he continued. "You'll just have to get used to loneliness, Mud… aargh!"

The Gryffindors laughed as, out of nowhere, a tub of jelly was dumped on top of the Slytherins. It splashed not only Malfoy but his friends, all of them drenched in purple, berry-flavoured, wiggling dessert.

Just then Professor Snape rocked up.

"Are you incapable of casting a Cleaning Spell, Draco?" he drawled. "All of you, clean up." Then he turned on the Gryffindors. "Who is responsible for this?"

An evil, high-pitched cackle echoed around the corridor.

**

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**

Aw! That's kind of sweet, isn't it? Still, Hermione will now be insecure. Ah well. We all have problems, and I'm sure she'll get over it. Besides, it will just give her secret admirer an opportunity to make her feel better.

**Review, please!**


	3. More Gifts

"More Gifts"

The next day Hermione returned to her rooms after class to find a wonderful work of origami resting on her desk. Someone had fashioned pieces of parchment into a model of a quill; a damn good model, at that. If it wasn't for the texture and size she could have mistaken it for the real thing.

"Beautiful," she whispered, stroking it gently. She hardly liked to handle it in case it fell apart. A lot of work must have gone into such artistry. "Who would do this?"

She looked at herself in the floor-length mirror by her dressing table. Malfoy was right. No one in their right mind would want her. Her hair was just plain, old, mousy brown, though admittedly less bushy than in her first few years at Hogwarts. But that was thanks to extensive use of hair products. Her teeth were also a more manageable size, thank Godric. This made her smile almost… pleasant.

Unfortunately, while she certainly wasn't fat – too much running around during battle had at least kept her weight down, not to mention the times she forgot to eat because she was busy studying – she wasn't as thin as other girls at Hogwarts. Girls like Ginny and the Patil twins, for example. She wanted to be more like them.

Yet it didn't seem to have helped Ginny. Hermione sighed. There was nothing she could do about that, so she refocussed on her own issues.

Another problem was that she didn't know how to apply makeup properly. That was the one drawback of privacy: she no longer had someone around to help her with her appearance. That included her lack of fashionable clothes. Her book bag was kind of ratty, but it was reliable. Her conversation was intelligent, but above the heads of most people her age. Her knowledge of Quidditch was decent, but her lack of enthusiasm was a disadvantage.

Hermione sighed. Well, perhaps she'd meet someone after she graduated. Plenty of people worked at the Ministry.

But then… she couldn't discount the person who had now left her a present twice. The flowers could have been explained away as a Head Girl present, but not the origami quill. That was too personal.

It was too special.

* * *

It had been a week now. Peeves watched her every night, and checked on her during classes and meals. He remembered to terrorise some students each day so that no one would suspect that anything was amiss. The rest of the time – after all, he needed no sleep – he contemplated possible presents for Hermione.

The quill had been an ingenious idea, in his opinion. He'd raided the students' storage cupboard for some scrap parchment. Being nimble with his fingers (a fact Hermione would discover more than once), he carefully constructed the piece of art. He flew down her chimney to deliver it, placing it on her desk. Then he waited to see her reaction.

He hadn't been disappointed.

'_Beautiful', she called it_, he thought. But then she had stared in the mirror at herself. She had looked miserable, and he wished that he could read thoughts.

This morning his present had been a life-size drawing of Malfoy being turned into a ferret. He was a bloody good artist, even if he did say so himself.

Hermione had burst out laughing when she saw it on the wall beside her bed. He'd frowned at first, but her next words made him smile again.

"_What a marvellous sight," she said. "Just perfect. Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. I'll have to apply a charm to protect this. It's too good to lose."_

_She then placed some kind of protective enchantment over the picture, which was good. Peeves had only had access to chalk._

_Before she left she touched it, her eyes taking it in._

"_No signature," she murmured, looking sad. "What an artist, though. I hope I meet him someday."_

You will_, Peeves thought as she left._

However, he now missed her warmth. He'd denied himself for a week; it was getting too much.

He'd have to do something that night.

* * *

Hermione moaned, arching her back as something blew on her privates.

"Must've forgotten the window," she said, her voice thick from sleep. She struggled onto her elbows and blinked until she could see clearly. No; the window was definitely closed. Perhaps it was coming from the fireplace…

Wait a moment. Her knickers had disappeared again.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as something entered her. It felt like a finger. "Oh my. Who's there?"

She received only silence and looked in front of her. Nothing there.

"I must be dreaming again," she said. But no matter how many times she pinched herself nothing changed. The invisible finger continued to move in and out, and it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. "Tell me who's there, or I'll… I'll…"

Her voice grew weaker as another finger joined the first. They curled around inside her and she yelped.

Her mind was a blur. What was happening to her? Something she couldn't see was making her… ooh, was m-making her… mmm…

"_Gods_," she said. Her hips moved involuntarily and the fingers upped their speed and depth. Something – some hidden force inside – made her fall back onto the covers and surrender to this phantom of hers.

She moaned and whimpered, the strangest, most delicious sensations coursing through her body like Fiendfyre. It was ticklish, but in a way that made her nipples tighten and her legs tremble. In fact, she was shaking all over.

In what felt like no time at all her whole body jerked and she felt something burst out of her. The fingers continued their actions, prolonging this sweet, sweet pleasure. Finally, she shuddered to a stop, her body completely relaxed.

Yet the fingers kept going.

"W-what are you doing to me?" she asked. Still there remained only the sound of her breathing and the squelching between her legs. She bit her lower lip and moaned again. Her pelvis began a rolling motion against the hand that she still couldn't see. She was tempted to reach out and grab whatever was there, but didn't want this torture to end. She knew that it would if she did something like that.

After she came a second time her mysterious guest left. Her heart sank, and it took her over an hour to get back to sleep.

And yet… she hadn't felt this relaxed since the war ended. Even after the last battle took place there was still cleaning up to do and rogue Death Eaters to capture. She'd personally been attacked a few times. She felt jumpy for many months.

Now the war was the farthest thing from her mind.

**

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**

Phew. That was fun.

**I hope you're still enjoying it, those faithful few who are still reading. I'm certainly enjoying the writing process for this. I came up with a great couple of scenes while I was playing Solitaire earlier, so maybe that's the key to it. Play Solitaire for ideas. What do you reckon?**

**Anyway, I'm determined to slot in more of the subplot/s, so we'll see how it goes.**


	4. The Story Continues

"The Story Continues"

_Back to present day_

Hermione gazed around the Great Hall. She couldn't find anyone with whom to connect the voice from last night. Had they been using a Voice Altering Charm she wouldn't have recognised it; and she _did_ recognise it.

That was the problem.

"You all right, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"What? Oh. I'm okay," she said. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"I've…" She looked around, blushing. "I've got a secret admirer."

"Really?" she squealed. "Who is it?"

"Ginny, the point of a secret admirer is that I _don't_ know who it is."

"Oh yeah." She looked sheepish. "But you haven't worked out who it is yet?"

"No. I can't tell how he's getting into my room…"

"Your _room_?"

"Long story," she mumbled, looking down at her breakfast.

"How long has this been going on?"

"A… a couple of months now," she said. "Almost since school started."

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

"Well, not really. You know what your brother's like with anyone who happens to fancy me," she said. "I heard his voice for the first time last night. We even had our… our first kiss." Her blush deepened as she remembered what else happened.

"And you _still_ don't know who it is?

"He's invisible."

Ginny scowled as she glanced down the table at Harry. It was still a sore spot with her that Harry was with Luna, since she still held a candle for him. Hermione shook her head.

"It's not him," she said. "He'd never betray Luna. Besides, even if he removed the wards on my door, how would he replace them with _my_ magical signature?"

"Could he fly in through the window?" Ginny said, still staring at Harry.

"It isn't big enough for anyone to get in… except perhaps a house elf, and I can't see any of them using a broomstick. Besides, I'm virtually persona non grata to them, thanks to my SPEW campaigning. And… he didn't sound like an elf."

"Aha! So you've heard him," she said.

"I told you that."

"…Oh yeah."

"I recognise his voice, but I can't work out from where," she replied, looking around the hall again.

"This is a real mystery," Ginny said, suddenly pleased. Hermione was glad. Maybe this would distract her from Harry. "What clues do you have?"

"It has to be someone who can make themselves invisible, has a reason to make themselves invisible, can get into my rooms without me knowing how and… is really artistic," she added, thinking once again about some of her presents. She told her friend about the gifts of roses, origami, drawings on her walls and even painted vines on her bedposts.

"He sounds really romantic," she said. "You're so lucky, Hermione." She looked down the table again.

"Don't start that, Gin. This is the first time someone's made me feel so special and I need your help."

"Okay," she said. "What do I do?"

"That's the thing; I _don't_ know what to do! Should I dress differently? Wear makeup? Try to find something to give him in return? I don't even know why anyone would want me." She gazed down at her hands sadly.

"Has he written anything? You might recognise his handwriting."

"True," Hermione said. "That's a good idea. Thanks, Gin!"

"Well, I'm hardly an expert in this," she said.

"Yes, but you've been in actual relationships before. I haven't."

"So you do want a relationship with this person?" Ginny asked.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I don't know. I think so, but I don't know how serious I want to be. I won't know until we meet properly. Although I suppose I should be grateful that _somebody_ wants me."

"You don't think it's some kind of practical joke, do you?"

"I hope not," she said. "Harry and Ron thought that someone might have placed a curse on the first bunch of flowers, but I checked them thoroughly… you know, later on. It's all safe, but I haven't told them any more since then."

"I can understand that."

* * *

The piece of parchment lay on her desk. At the end of the day Hermione returned to her rooms to find a long quill resting beside it. She gasped when she read the note that was already written there:

_**My dear Hermione,**_

_**After last night I felt that this should be the next step. It will be the easiest way to get to know each other. Until the time is right I wish to remain anonymous.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**A secret admirer.**_

Hermione beamed. She didn't recognise the writing, but maybe now she could get some hints.

She picked up the quill. It wasn't one of those metal-tipped ones from Scrivenshaft's; in fact, if she didn't know any better she would have said that it was made by…

"Oh my," she whispered. She sat down, opened an ink bottle, dipped the nib of the new quill into the dark liquid and began to write a reply.

_**Dear friend,**_

_**I don't know how else to address you. You're my only secret admirer, so I desperately want to meet you. Why do you want to keep your identity from me? And please tell me: did you make the quill?**_

_**Hermione.**_

She started to unpack her book bag when she heard scratching. Whirling around she saw a scrappy old quill running across the parchment. She recognised it as one that she had thrown out after she received new stationery for her birthday. Had her admirer taken it because it belonged to her? He must have done!

The night of her eighteenth birthday he had visited her. His present had been a life-sized portrait of Crookshanks on the wall above her desk. It made her cry at first, since he had passed away only two months before she returned to school; but she had been holding in most of her grief. Now she only smiled when she saw the drawing of her old half-kneazle.

She was woken during the night, of course, by the increasingly familiar sensation of being touched by her phantom lover. He had kept pleasuring her until she passed out from ecstasy, gripping his unseen fingers before relaxing into unconsciousness.

Now she waited until the quill disappeared again before walking forwards.

"Hello," she said. There was no reply.

_**My dear Hermione,**_

_**I will tell you who I am one day. Until then I would prefer to continue as we are.**_

_**Do my actions and gifts displease you or make you uncomfortable? If so, tell me. Last night was the first time I dared to be intimate in so personal a way; I consider kissing to be more personal than the liberties I have taken.**_

_**Yes, I made the quill.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**A secret admirer.**_

* * *

Peeves waited while she read his note, taking in her blush of tainted innocence. A few tendrils of hair had escaped to rest against her forehead, and he had to force himself not to stroke them away.

"Hello," he murmured. She swivelled around in her chair, eyes wide.

"You're still here?" she asked. He was reluctant to reply.

"…Yes," he said. She smiled brightly.

"I'm glad," she said. "I look forward to your visits."

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew she couldn't see him, but she blushed all the same.

"Only because you make me feel… sexy," she confessed, turning even redder at the word. "No one else ever has. To tell you the truth," she looked at her hands, "no one else has ever made me want them so much. You make me feel beautiful. And even if this really is only a joke, or a plot on the part of some Death Eater…"

"No!" he said sternly. She frowned. "Neither."

"Oh." It turned to a smile. "But I do wonder about your motive."

How could he be honest about this without losing his chance? He floated down behind her and breathed gently on her neck. She visibly shivered.

"I want to get to know you," he said. "I want you, Hermione Granger. I need you." _To become human_, he thought. "To live." Then he moved around so that he could kiss her cheek.

"A name," she whispered. "Please. Tell me your name."

"Not yet," he said.

"Keep talking to me."

He shook his head, pulling back. "Not anymore."

"Would I recognise your voice?"

"I won't take that chance."

She sighed and turned back to the parchment. "Very well."

* * *

They kept exchanging short notes until it was time for Hermione to go to bed. She was shocked that she had forgotten about studying, but consoled herself with the fact that she was always ahead in her work anyway; and as long as she didn't waste time by correcting Harry and Ron's work she was free to learn more about her secret admirer.

Peeves learnt a great deal about Hermione. He discovered that she had an odd love for Muggle television show themes, regardless of whether or not she watched them. It didn't matter what year or what country they came from; if she liked the tune or song that was all that mattered. Her favourite colour was purple (so was his, though she seemed sceptical when he told her that), she was _this_ close to giving up trying to impress Professor Snape, she always wanted to learn horse-riding but hated the threatening height that came with it…

She made him promise that next time he would 'talk' more about himself.

"Don't leave," she said, holding out a hand. "Stay with me tonight."

"You're eager, aren't you?" He was smiling.

"I just want you to stay with me."

"I could never restrain myself," he said. She blushed furiously again, biting her lower lip. "Go to bed. I will return later."

He was looking forward to using the barbs of the quill on her sensitive skin.

**

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**

And so it goes. More mini-letters coming up, where I'll make up a whole bunch of things about Peeves, drawing on psychology (I suppose) to give him more depth. We need to have something for Hermione to like; after all, she's supposed to fall in love with him! (Mind you, I think she's well on her way there.)

**What do you think?**


	5. Heart on Parchment

"Heart on Parchment"

"Whatever happened to the person that left you those flowers, `Mione?" Harry asked.

"Don't call me '`Mione', Harry."

"You didn't tell me that Hermione got flowers," Luna said, gazing up at her boyfriend.

"We thought it was a Death Eater or something," he said. "But she seems okay."

"It was _not_ a Death Eater," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "I checked the flowers, and nothing was wrong with them. Is it so hard for you to believe that someone might be attracted to me?"

"So you have a secret admirer?" Luna asked. She nodded. "That's so romantic."

"Harry," she said, glancing down at her book bag, "you haven't lent your Invisibility Cloak to anyone, have you?"

"No. It's locked up in my trunk."

"Yeah," Ron said, scratching his head. "It's too bloody difficult to get at."

"Ron! Have you been trying to break into my trunk?"

"Uh… no?" Harry scowled at him. "S-so, does this mean that you're still getting stuff from him, Hermione?" he asked hurriedly, shrinking back in his chair. "Why haven't you told us?"

"Gee, I wonder," she muttered, looking across the room at Ginny. She was helping some of the younger students with their work, no doubt keeping as far away from Harry as she could without having to leave the room. "I'm going to bed."

"Isn't it a bit early?" Neville asked.

"No. I had to patrol last night, so I'm a bit tired. Besides, I'm in separate rooms now, remember?" She mock-frowned. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed until now."

"N-no. I was just wondering, that's all."

"Well, good night," she said, standing up. She hauled her bag over her shoulder, waved to Ginny, and left the common room.

* * *

There were no additional notes on the parchment, so Hermione started on her Transfiguration homework. It was unusual for her secret admirer not to be waiting for her; and she knew for a fact that he wasn't there. She could sense that she was alone.

Halfway through her Potions homework Hermione felt a shiver down her spine. She whirled around in her chair, but – as usual – her visitor was invisible. Her heart sank.

"Will I ever see you?" she asked. An unseen hand twirled one of her curls around his finger.

"Yes," he whispered, the word barely a breath. She moaned and pressed her head against his hand. It must have been a strange sight, seeing shallow, finger-shaped indentations in her left cheek, rippling as he stroked her. His thumb began to rub her lips.

"Yes," she repeated in a hiss. Moments later he was kissing her.

_Heavens!_ she thought, pressing back desperately. She heard him groan into her mouth – felt it, too – and tried to grab his shoulders. But he pulled away swiftly.

"Sorry," she said, looking down at the hands now resting in her lap. "Um… write to me?"

The next movement she saw was the scraggly old quill dipping into her ink bottle, which she still hadn't capped. He pulled 'their' parchment to the edge of the desk and began to write.

_**My dearest Hermione,**_

_**I suppose now is the time to tell you about myself. As you know – although you don't believe it – my favourite colour is purple. Clearly I do live at Hogwarts. I am very creative, as you have said. Your every compliment means so much to me. It is rare that I receive praise.**_

He backed away, leaving no inscription. It was quicker just to write without one.

"Why?" Hermione said, frowning at the last line. She picked up her favourite quill, the one he had made for her.

_**I'm sorry about that. It's such a shame, because you really are talented.**_

She pushed the parchment back towards him. He tapped the feathery end on the surface of the table for a while. Finally…

_**Do you know why I chose you?**_

With an inaudible gasp Hermione looked up. She shook her head.

"I can't think why anyone would," she said. He snorted softly and wrote some more.

_**You are a smart and kind witch. Your power comes not only from your magic but the love you have for those you hold dear. Perhaps someday I will be one of them?**_

Hermione had been reading it as he wrote. As soon as he had dotted the question mark she grabbed his hand.

"…You already are," she said, her eyes roaming the air above her. "I just wish that I could see you."

_**You will**_, he wrote. _**What do you want in a man, appearance-wise? Tall, dark and handsome?**_

She giggled and picked up her quill.

_**Not too tall**_, she wrote. _**I wouldn't want to get a sore neck from craning my head to look at my hus**_, she quickly scribbled those three letters out, _**boyfriend. I don't really mind about hair colour, but I've always been more attracted to someone with darker hair. Straight, not curly.**_

He nudged her hand out of the way to write.

_**Eyes? Skin colour? Anything else?**_

She shook her head.

"It really doesn't matter to me," she said. "I suppose… much as I love dark brown eyes, dark blue eyes – the colour of sapphires – would be stunning to look into." She gazed off into the distance before shaking her head. "But I don't care what you look like."

"Oh?" he said. "You would consider me?"

She bit her lip when she realised what she had implied. "Uh…"

"Don't answer now." He stroked her hair before picking up the quill one last time.

_**Finish your homework, and I will return later. That is, if you wish me to.**_

"Of course," she said as he returned to the quill to its place. "I always look forward to it." He chuckled and she blushed. "You know why. Do you really have to leave so soon?" There was silence. "I'll try to finish as soon as possible. Only more essay to do after this one…"

She felt the sadness descend once more. He was gone.

_

* * *

_

Earlier

The pounding of small feet came from the next corridor over. Peeves was on his way to Hermione's room, having been delayed by the Fat Friar. He peered around the corner and saw that an ickle firstie was being chased by some third year Slytherins. The first year must have been the missing Hufflepuff that the Friar was asking him about.

Had he more time he would have gone back and told the ghost what was happening, but the students were rapidly approaching the top of a flight of stairs. Horror consumed him, and he flew forward, knocking the Slytherins out of the way and grabbing the Hufflepuff just as he tripped.

The older students scattered, portrait subjects splitting up to follow them. Nearly-Headless Nick floated into view.

"Good thing you saw what was happening, Peeves," he said. "Well done, ol' chap."

"You Evan Peterson?" Peeves asked, shaking the boy. He nodded. "Good. The Friar was looking for you."

Nick frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked. Peeves sneered at him.

"`Course I am," he said. "Why?"

The Gryffindor ghost sighed. "Come along. We must go and see the headmaster about this?"

"Let the Fat Friar do it," Peeves whined in his 'usual' voice, not the toned-down one he used with Hermione. "It's one of his kids."

"P-please, could you let go of me?" the student asked. He stumbled as the poltergeist pushed him against the side of the staircase.

"I have somewhere else to be. You take care of it."

"Must I get the Bloody Baron?" The stairs were firmly in place by now, and the student was shakily hurrying down.

"Let `im come," Peeves said. Nick gaped at him. "Now, _if_ you don't mind, I'm leaving."

"You have to make a report," he said, his sternness dampened by his shock.

"Fine!" he said, throwing up his hands. "Let's go."

_At least Hermione knows how to keep herself occupied_, he thought.

After giving the headmaster his 'statement' Peeves whizzed out of the office, taking every shortcut he knew to get to Hermione's room. His time spent with her was becoming increasingly enjoyable, and he was focussing less on coming back to life and more on getting to know her.

* * *

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was thinking. Whenever he had an especially perplexing problem – which was, fortunately, not very often – he went to the library after curfew, more than once turfing out amorous pairs of students. After all, he hardly wanted his thinking time disrupted by a lot of unpleasant (to him) noises.

This was not the first time Peeves had behaved out of character recently. Mischief had been happening less to other students, and yet more to the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy. The Bloody Baron wanted this stopped, but the other ghosts came down hard on him. After all, the Slytherins had had it easy for years.

However, this blatant uncaring attitude towards the Baron was something different. It was a theory that required testing.

**

* * *

**

More un-Peeves-ish behaviour coming up! You know, sometime…

**It's difficult, this task that I've set myself, I'll admit. But I think I just might be able to pull it off. We shall see.**

**Are you all rooting for me?**

**(And every one of my of-age Australian readers just sniggered, I'll bet…)**


	6. Confusion

"Confusion"

"The portraits did report some disturbing news," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard as he studied the ghosts in front of him. All four House representatives had met and decided to speak to the headmaster about Peeves. "Usually the only trouble is that he has been _causing_ trouble, not… the opposite."

"He saved a student's life," Sir Nicholas said. "It would have been bad enough had the boy broken his neck; but the staircase then moved while we were on it. His body could have gone right over the edge, and…"

Everyone shuddered as he left the rest unsaid.

"He has been defiant of the Bloody Baron, as well," the Grey Lady said. The Baron looked at her, his gaze turning mournful but briefly.

"`Tis true," he said, his voice softer than usual. The Lady turned her head away from him. With a sigh, he looked down at the headmaster. "I confronted him about his seeming vendetta against my students."

"He has been obsequious to you for so long," the Friar said, frowning. "Let the students in the other houses have respite."

"But Peeves never used to discriminate to this extent," Nick said, crossing his arms. "We must face the fact that he has changed."

"Perhaps the students' energies have altered since the war," Dumbledore said, sitting back in his chair. He looked around at the portraits. "Has this ever happened before?"

He received a chorus of 'never's, 'no's and 'certainly not's.

"Perhaps it will sort itself out," he continued, turning back to the House ghosts. "Only if it becomes dangerous should we worry."

"You have made the mistake of waiting before," Phineas Nigellus said, glaring from his painting. "Will you ever learn, Albus?"

"Leave it, Phineas," he said.

"How will you know when something becomes dangerous if the change is gradual?"

"He is right," the Baron said.

"You are just angered by your loss of power over someone," the Lady snapped, her eyes flashing as she looked at him. He frowned back.

"I am not…"

"Stop this at once!" the Friar said. He and Nick exchanged a look of exasperation. Dumbledore massaged his temples. Ghosts really were a pain sometimes.

"Thank you for letting me know," he said. "I will keep an eye on the situation, and if anything particularly troubling occurs do not hesitate to let me know. Peeves has had his moments where he has come through; perhaps he will surprise us again. He is, after all, a part of Hogwarts; and, as such, he has a duty…"

"To aggravate the students," Nick interrupted. Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"I repeat: I will monitor this," he said. "Good evening."

With much grumbling, the spirits left. After a few more minutes of thought, and consultation with the previous heads of Hogwarts, he decided to research poltergeists.

* * *

"Honestly, `Mione; how could you not notice?" Ron asked.

"Don't call me '`Mione', Ron," Hermione said. "And I've been… distracted. I'm Head Girl…" She trailed off, blushing. Had she been neglecting her duties? No. Maybe.

She didn't know.

"Haven't you talked to Ernie about it?" Harry asked, nodding at the Head Boy.

"About Peeves? Why would I? He's not hurting anyone," she said, shrugging, attempting to return to her breakfast.

"That's the thing," he said. "He… he saved Evan Peterson from some Slytherins who almost got him killed."

"Where is the problem in this?"

"Uh, he's a _poltergeist_, Hermione."

"They're not dangerous creatures by nature," she said. "Are they, Luna?"

"Do you mean that they would never kill anyone?" Luna asked. Hermione nodded. "Of course they wouldn't, otherwise there wouldn't be one at Hogwarts. It isn't the safest school around, you know."

They chuckled bitterly, knowing just how dangerous it was.

"But Peeves was really good when he helped out in the battle last year," Hermione said, referring to their sixth year, when Harry had defeated Voldemort. Fortunately for his modest nature, many others had helped, so he passed as much credit onto them as he could. "He saved lives then."

"I guess we should be grateful," Ginny said from further down the table. Attention switched to her, and she turned red. "You know, because he hasn't pranked any Gryffindors for ages. At least not any of us. He's been focussing on the Slytherins."

"He put some kind of invisible colouring in all the girls' shampoo and conditioner, so that when their hair dried it turns all sorts of flashing colours, some with glitter or stars in them," Harry said. "Of course, Snape sorted…"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione corrected automatically.

"_Professor_ Snape used potions to sort them out, but it took awhile. By the time they got to breakfast the colours were fading, but they didn't disappear completely until dinnertime," he said. "Luckily someone took pictures first. How could you miss _that_?"

"Oh… I vaguely remember it," she said, thinking hard to recall the incident. "I must have dismissed it as something that somebody else did."

"But that first one, when Peeves tipped jelly onto Malfoy," Ron said, snorting with laughter, "that was bloody brilliant. The blonde git deserved it for what he said to you."

"I'd say that it was chivalrous if he was doing it for me," Hermione said, smiling. "Of course, he wasn't. But it was still very… satisfying."

_Like my secret admirer was last night_, she thought, turning even redder. It was the third night in a row he had been to her quarters. She had barely gotten back from patrols when he slammed the door closed and began to ravish her, lining the skin of her neck with kisses which she barely felt. They were so light, so cool, so fresh…

"Hermione? Hermione?"

She shook her head when she finally felt Luna pinching her. "Yes? What is it?"

"You zoned out for a bit there," Seamus said, joining the conversation.

"Did I? I'm sorry. Just… exams. Schoolwork. My mind is… well, it's full of it, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Ron asked. "On seconds thought, forget it. That was a stupid question."

"NEWTs," Hermione said. "You… you should all be concentrating on that. Except Luna and Ginny," she added. "Luna, why _are_ you at this table?"

"She's been sitting with us ever since we started dating," Harry said, frowning from across the table. "Are you all right?"

"N-no, I'm fine. I must have just… forgotten that you're in Ravenclaw," she told Luna. "Again… sorry. Gods!" She held her head. "I've been neglecting my duties! _And_ my friends! This is absolutely dreadful."

"Boy trouble will do that," Ginny muttered, but they all heard her. Unfortunately for them, she stood up and left before anyone could ask her to elaborate.

Hermione, however, knew perfectly well where she was coming from. Only her problem was a positive one… and Ginny's was not.

* * *

It was getting increasingly difficult to remember to pull practical jokes on the students and staff members, thinking about things to tell Hermione and to make for her. He had resorted to picking more flowers recently, so he had made up for it as best he could the last few nights.

But this had all drawn attention to his uncharacteristic inactivity.

"I'm already in too deep," he said, hanging out in a disused classroom. "I need to create a big distraction. Something epic. Something to be remembered."

_Then I can kiss her properly_, he thought, smiling. The smile turned evil as he came up with a great idea. Now he just needed a target…

* * *

A few days later Malfoy was walking along, minding his own business and thinking about more ways to torment his enemies. Yes, the war had ended and the wrong side had won, but he had strict orders from his father to 'play nice'.

What his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and besides, who was going to do anything about it? Those namby-pamby little war heroes didn't have as much influence as his father, and when he graduated no one would be telling him what to do. No, sir! Draco Malfoy would be his own boss, and he'd find his own way to make sure that purity always came out on top.

Sure, he wouldn't go to the same lengths as the Dark Lord had. But there were other ways, subtler, more Slytherin-like methods of getting rid of the trash.

Trash, however, was exactly what he got.

**

* * *

**

As you can see we're deviating away from Hermione and Peeves as a couple for a bit, and focussing more and more on the outside world. This is to make up for later on, when the focus returns to them solely for a number of chapters.

**You'll see.**

**Please review! It keeps my plot bunnies fed, especially as they wait for me to start writing them.**


	7. Another Practical Joke

**Warning: A couple of swear words. You know, by my standards.**

"Another Practical Joke"

There was one huge advantage to being the poltergeist of Hogwarts: Peeves absorbed all the knowledge taught at the school, even that which was never taught. Many secret spells and potions had been created in his time; some were still being created. He knew each and every one. They were the keys to his success.

Lucius Malfoy – the blonde-haired, bigoted berk – would certainly be pissed when he found out what happened to his son, but it served them right. It served all those purebloods right for what they tried to do to people like his Hermione.

Hermione. When he was human he would be able to touch her, to taste her. At the moment, of course, he was very grateful that he couldn't smell anything.

Malfoy Junior had thrown up twice by now. Peeves was cackling from his place by the ceiling, and Malfoy was constantly swearing and shaking his fist at the poltergeist.

"My father will get you for this!" he shouted.

"Let `im try," Peeves replied, doing cartwheels in the air.

"PEEVES!"

The Bloody Baron turned up, followed by Professor Snape. The professor looked ill, his nose wrinkling up, and he tried to disperse the dreadful smell. No matter what he did, nothing worked. The floating piles of garbage just continued to bob around.

"Make it go away, Professor," he said, moving forward. Professor Snape took a step back.

"I am trying, Draco," he said. "None of your commands will help."

"Peeves, undo this," the Baron said. Students, teachers and ghosts were starting to gather at the scene, pinching their noses. The portraits must have told them.

Malfoy scowled at the laughter from the students who hated him. Peeves bowed, and soon received applause. He saw Hermione and her friends, grinning from their place in the accumulating crowd, and he felt a burst of pride when she joined in with the clapping.

Their eyes met.

"Stop it!" Malfoy yelled, destroying the moment as he waved his arms. They just ended up hitting the rubbish towards the students and teachers, causing them to move back. Luckily for them, the mess just gravitated back to its victim.

"Peeves, I told you to undo it," the Baron said, frowning up at the poltergeist. Sick of his attitude, Peeves decided that he had had enough.

"Nope," he said, doing a tumble and causing the bells on his hat to jingle. He grinned at the Baron. "Sorry, Guv, but the joke stays. Don't worry." He cackled again. "It'll wear off… eventually."

"He cannot go to classes like this," Professor Snape said, his arms folded.

"What, because of the smell?"

"Clearly."

"Ah, but there is a way to make him slightly more… bearable," he said, floating upside down. "If you hex `im then you won't be able to smell `im anymore. That goes for all of you," he added to the students. Many eyes shone at the prospect of cursing Malfoy. "Give it a go."

Feeling reckless, Hermione stepped forward. Her face took on a sour look as the stench got worse.

"Rictusempra," she said, the light hitting the middle of Malfoy's chest. He began to laugh incessantly, clutching his stomach. Hermione lifted the spell almost immediately, and her face cleared into a look of surprise.

"Well?" Peeves drawled. He hoped that she didn't recognise his voice, and made it as different as possible.

"It worked!" she exclaimed. She even moved forward, sniffing hard. "Nope. The smell's gone."

"Hey! I don't want to be jinxed by everyone," Malfoy said. "Baron, do something."

"Poor, poor Draco," Peeves said, floating closer. "At least your mother's expression won't `ave to change when she's around you now."

"I will not say it again," the Bloody Baron said, only inches away from the poltergeist now. "Remove the spell."

Peeves turned slowly and looked the ghost up and down.

"And I won't say it again, either," he said, tilting his head. "No. The little worm's had it coming to `im for ages now." The Baron's eyes widened comically. "You can't intimidate me anymore. Soon I'll be outta your control."

With a sweeping bow he disappeared, grinning madly to the last.

* * *

Hermione looked at her friends. "I see what you mean," she said.

As the crowd disappeared, happy to get away from the stink, she had the nagging feeling that she had missed something important. But what was it?

"That was just weird," Dean said. "I mean, Peeves is crazy…"

"He's not _that_ crazy," Hermione interrupted. "He's just… a poltergeist. It's his job to… uh…" She trailed off, noticing that many people were watching her. "Never mind. Sorry, Dean. Continue."

"Well, he's just changed, that's all," he said. "He was uncontrollable before the Bloody Baron came along, and I think… I think this must be the first time he's ever spoken back to him."

"Actually, I heard that he did something like that the other day," Ernie said. As the seventh years and Luna discussed things, they walked away, now ignoring Malfoy. Hermione glanced back, but not at him; rather, at the last place she had seen Peeves.

"How peculiar," she murmured.

* * *

Ginny stayed in the shadows, waiting for everyone else to leave. Professor McGonagall had said something about arranging classes later – by owl – before leaving, surreptitiously covering her mouth. Malfoy leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and scowling unattractively. Or at least as unattractively as a Malfoy can, considering that they were relatively good-looking.

Well, Mr. Malfoy, yes. Malfoy Junior reminded her of a ferret even more than he used to; his fortune was the only thing that could improve his appearance, and only if one knew that he was the wealthiest student at Hogwarts. He inherited his pinched look from his mother.

It was a damn good thing he had his father's hair.

"What'd you do to Peeves?" she asked, stepping into the light. Malfoy sneered when he saw her.

"Bugger off," he muttered. She raised her eyebrow.

"What _would_ your parents say if they heard you use words like that?" she said. "For all you know, one of your friends might have taken you up on the offer. Zabini, perhaps? I hear that he swings that way."

"If you tell…"

"I won't," she said, her voice suddenly gentle. "I'd never do that. Of course, one of your fellow Slytherins might do that sort of thing." She shrugged. "Do you need some help?"

"With what?" he asked. "You heard that bloody ghost wannabe. Even Professor Snape couldn't do anything about it. And that Mudblood cursed me."

Ginny frowned. "It wasn't an actual curse. You should know that." She folded her arms. "And don't use that word. She's one of my best friends. One of my only friends."

"Yeah. Losing out to Loony Lovegood must have stung," he said.

"Yeah," she echoed. "Well."

"Potter doesn't know what he's missing," Malfoy said, stepping closer. As he moved Ginny was assailed once again with the foul stench that Peeves had created around the blonde. "I wouldn't mind finding out."

"Wha…?"

"You're one of the best-looking girls at Hogwarts," he said. Ginny backed up. "And I bet no one's ever shown you. Your brothers are probably enough to drive anyone away. But," he continued to get nearer, "I'm not like Potter. I wouldn't be intimidated."

"Harry's a Gryffindor," she whispered. Her heart was racing the closer he got to her. It was almost masked by the smell. "He wouldn't let anyone scare him off."

"No?" He smirked, looking her body up and down. "Pity you're a Gryffindor as well. Then again, I don't really care about that." He stretched out a hand.

Harry had never even asked her out, so she couldn't say that she was rejected. But they had exchanged looks and touches part of their fifth year, and almost all of their sixth year. Something happened during the summer, though, and he started going out with Luna. He just asked her straight out, while they were shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley. She had accepted happily, which nearly broke Ginny's heart.

She'd remained in hope that he would come to his senses, but that never happened. He and Luna were still an item – the most popular couple at Hogwarts – and Ginny was alone.

Now, seeing the way that Draco Malfoy was looking at her, clearly wanting her, she felt the resentment rise up in her. So Harry didn't like her? She was sick of being passed over, first as his friend and then as his girlfriend.

"Just think about it," Malfoy said, moving away. Ginny acted on impulse.

"I don't need to," she said, drawing her wand. He backed off, glaring at her. Before he could speak she took a chance and cast a Contraception Charm. The glare turned into a grin.

"Right choice… Ginevra," he said. She smiled slowly and nodded.

"That's my name," she said. "And Hermione's right. I can't smell anything bad anymore."

"Hmm." He aimed his wand at himself. He cast a silent spell on himself and nodded as he raised his eyes to her. "Well, you Weasleys are so fertile that I thought another dose wouldn't hurt."

Her eyes dropped to the ground. Seconds later his hands came into view as they inched up below her skirt. She looked up at him as he pressed her against the wall, wondering idly if he was going to kiss her, half-hoping that he wasn't. His would probably still taste of sick. But then she was distracted by the sound of a zipper.

"I…"

"No speaking, unless it's my name," he said. She watched him push his trousers and underpants to the ground, swallowing audibly when his… when he sprang forth.

_Gods, I can't even think its name_, she thought. She gasped when his fingers tugged at her knickers, shoving them down to her knees. Then her body was slammed against the wall and he bent slightly to line himself up.

"Um…"

"That didn't sound like my name, _Ginevra_," he taunted, fitting himself just inside her entrance. She was breathing harshly, and her heart was racing even faster than before. There were throbs between her legs that matched her pulse, and they only increased as he continued to push in.

Suddenly he was lifting her up against the stonework, still nestled just inside her. Feet dangling, she waited for him to make the next move. He was looking down at the point where they were joined.

"Draco," she hissed. His hands were cold against the hot flesh of her thighs. He chuckled, rocking against her.

"Gods, you're gullible," he muttered, dropping her. She barely registered his words, the pain of being deflowered so abruptly cutting through her like a knife.

"Oh," she said, sobbing. He ground against her, the sensation creating pins and needles between her legs. Painful pins and needles, right inside her body.

"And a virgin, too. _Very_ nice."

He moved frantically, in and out like wildfire. Eventually Ginny was able to ignore the pain. It became a kind of tickle, the way his skin massaged her equally sensitive inner walls. He was a decent size – she supposed – and it felt nice. More than nice, in fact.

"Hurry up," he said, moving a hand down between their bodies. He merely touched her clit and she squeezed him hard, yelping as she came.

* * *

Malfoy grinned, even as her orgasm triggered his own deep into her body. The spell he had cast that had blocked his senses from Peeves' prank wasn't another bout of contraception. It was the opposite.

In 'olden times', not all women were like Molly Weasley, uncaring of how often they fell pregnant. There were those who could cast protection silently. In retaliation wizards invented a non-verbal spell that could undo it, although it only worked nine out of ten times. This was for the wizards who wanted large families against their wife's wishes.

Knowing the size of the Weasley family… well, let's just say that Draco Malfoy was pretty damn sure he was knocking up the youngest of the redhead clan of blood traitors, the former virgin Ginevra Weasley.

With a final spurt he smiled and then took her mouth in a mocking kiss.

**

* * *

**

In case you hadn't got the memo, I reeeeeeeeeally dislike Draco Malfoy. Intensely so. And – no offence to Tom Felton – I don't think he's all that attractive. Felton looks a hell of a lot better with short, brown hair and an actual smile. The movie people make him very unappealing, at least to my eyes.

**Don't feel free to contradict me. It's an opinion, not a statement of fact. No flames required. Malfoy is the villain of this story, just as he is in the books, at least until the last couple of chapters. Of canon, that is. He's just a git all the way through this fic.**

**Out of interest… how many of you would want Ginny to fall pregnant?**

**And for those who say that there's any OOC-ness going on… um, you're reading a romance between Hermione and Peeves. See where I'm going with this?**

**One last note: the reason that Professor Snape could still smell Malfoy was because he was attacking the spell, not the person. But, as you can see, it doesn't necessarily need to be an 'attack'; just something used on that person. Clever, no? Yes?**


	8. Bad Times

"Bad Times"

"D-did… you say… something?" Ginny asked, panting. The pain was beginning to return, and she grimaced. It got worse when Malfoy pulled out.

"Poor little Ginevra Weasley," he said. He magicked away all evidence of their activities, tucked himself into his pants and zipped them. He didn't bother to push her skirt down, and just cleaned her as well. No point incriminating himself. "You Gryffindors are all the same, you know. So willing to believe what anyone tells you. Why d'you think Potter's blood traitor godfather died? And that was the Dark Lord lying to him!" He looked smug as he rearranged his robes. "Thanks for the fun time. You know, once Potter's done with Lovegood, maybe you can get together with him? Though if Loony's anything like her last name…" He tutted, revelling in the wetness on her cheeks. "Still, I know lots of people who won't mind helping you 'practise'…"

"Go away," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

"Maybe I'll even come back for seconds…"

"GO AWAY!" she shrieked.

Malfoy swaggered off, now no longer bothered by the smell around himself. If only harmless magic was required, maybe it would all be okay. It was just a pity that the spells had to be used on _him_, and not on the garbage hanging around.

Ginny, meanwhile, slid down the wall, covering her face to muffle the heart-wrenching sobs that were tearing her throat apart.

_Why did I feel like I had to spite Harry_? she thought. _Why? Oh, gods, _why_?_

* * *

"You look festive," Ernie remarked. "What's with the flower?"

"Oh, I just got it from a… friend," she said. "It was part of a bouquet." She adjusted her hair around the white carnation tucked behind her right ear.

"A 'friend'? C'mon, Hermione. Everyone knows that you have a secret admirer," he said, smiling slyly from where he was working on his Charms essay.

"What? How?" she asked.

"Aha! So it's true, then?"

She slumped. "Yes. How did you know?"

"You'd be surprised how much Gryffindors gossip," he said. "'Fair-play', you know. It's bred into you to tell others whatever you know to give them equal advantage."

"How does this give anyone an advantage?" she asked. "Do… do the _Slytherins_ know? And what about the teachers?"

"Okay, when I said everyone, I meant everyone that matters – your friends, in other words, and friendly acquaintances."

"Oh." She half-smiled. "I really like him, Ernie. I… I think that I may love him."

"You know what they say," he said. "If you don't know whether you love someone, then you don't love them."

"Uh… thank you."

They both jumped when they heard frantic knocking at the door.

"Hermione!"

"That's Ginny," she said, leaping out of her seat. As soon as she pushed open the portrait Ginny climbed into the room and threw herself into her friend's arms. Hermione glanced back around at Ernie.

"I can finish in my room," he said, clearing the coffee table of his books. As he left them alone Hermione seated Ginny on the couch. She sat beside the younger girl and held her close.

"What's wrong?" she asked, letting Ginny cry on her shoulder.

"I… I did something so stupid, `Mione," she whimpered. Hermione didn't have the heart to correct her.

"What?"

"Oh gods! It's all because of Harry, my feelings for him." She sniffled, and Hermione conjured a hanky for her. "Thanks."

"You didn't kiss him or anything, did you?" she said.

"No." Ginny twisted the piece of cloth in her hands. "Nothing like that. Not… with Harry."

"Gin? What happened?" Hermione shook her gently. "Tell me."

"I…" She dropped her voice, looking around the room wide-eyed. "I h-had sex with Draco Malfoy." Then her eyes dropped to the floor, fresh tears clogging up her eyelashes. Hermione stared at her.

"…You _what_?"

"I didn't mean to!" Ginny exclaimed, standing. She began to pace around, hugging herself. "I wasn't in my right mind. I just felt so unwanted because of Harry being with Luna, and… and… he was coming on to me. It made me feel so… female. You know?"

"I do," Hermione said, thinking of her secret admirer. "It's nice to be reminded, especially when my two best friends are boys, and they didn't even notice that I was a girl until our fifth year. You'd think the long hair would be a bit of a giveaway, but I guess not."

"Boys." She sat down again and turned to her friend. For the next half hour she told Hermione everything that happened, including Malfoy's cruel words afterwards. Then they sat in silence for awhile.

"Wow," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I should have seen that you weren't with us. If I had…"

"It's not your fault. It's all mine." She wiped away the remaining tears. "`Mione, what do I do?"

"First of all, did you use contraception?" she asked, blushing a bit.

"Of course. I cast the Charm on him, and then he used it on himself to 'make sure'."

"He did?"

"Yes. He said so."

"Um… and you believed him?"

"Well, he cast a non-verbal charm on himself and then said…" Her eyes widened. "I don't know. What if he lied?"

"It could be revenge," she said, getting up. "Ginny, we have to make a potion."

"Which potion?"

"A Morning After Potion. It has to simmer for at least seven hours, and takes a couple of hours to make. You have to take it within twelve."

"Do you have all the ingredients?"

"No," she said. "Most, but not all. I'm only missing a couple of things. We could go to the hospital wing…"

"Hermione, we can't let anyone know," she said, gripping the Head Girl's hands.

"I could steal some from the infirmary," Hermione mumbled. Ginny's eyes lit up. "But I'm sure you need a Pain Relief Potion. I think I can make one of those. Go and lie down. You can stay here tonight."

* * *

He was floating along to Hermione's rooms when he saw her step out into the corridor. Immediately turning invisible, Peeves flew forward, grabbed her arms and kissed her.

"Mph!" She gasped when he let her go, trying to regain her breath. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair. She sighed in relief.

"Thank goodness."

"You were expecting someone else?"

"No." She looked to the side, before turning back to where she assumed he was. "Can I tell you a secret? Will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Of course."

"It's Ginny." She clutched her elbows. "She… needs a…" She dropped her voice even lower, causing Peeves to lean in. "She needs a Morning After Potion. I don't have all the ingredients to make it, so I need to steal a vial from the infirmary."

Although no one could see it, Peeves' eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Steal?"

"I daren't try to take ingredients from Professor Snape's stores again," she whispered. "Once was bad enough. Maybe that's why I don't deserve to have any praise from him."

Peeves put an arm around her shoulder and nuzzled her neck.

"Go back to your rooms," he said. "Madame Pomfrey has powerful wards over all the potions. She – and the headmaster – would know who took it. Do you want that?" Hermione shook her head frantically. "Good." He stroked her lips. "It was definitely Miss Weasley?"

She blushed. "Yes. She gave herself to Malfoy, but he treated her pretty badly. The things he said to her afterwards… And I think he may have reversed the Charm that she placed on him, which is why we need to get the Potion."

"Hermione," he murmured. "I will take care of it. If I can't get the Potion then I'll make one myself. All right?"

"You'd do that? You'd do that for her?"

"Only a little," he said. "I am really doing this for you."

She melted under his words and touch. He placed a brief kiss on her lips and then disappeared. Floating on air, she drifted back into the Heads' rooms, never noticing that the subject of the portrait looked very confused.

**

* * *

**

But why? Meh. It hardly mattered. I just needed something cliffhanger-ish.

**You know me!**

**What will happen next chapter? You'll see…**


	9. Lighter Days

"Lighter Days"

Hermione awoke to a long warmth beside her, and – for a brief moment – she hoped that it was her secret admirer. But when she turned her head she saw Ginny. Disorientation set in for half a minute, until she recalled why her friend was there.

"Wake up, Gin," she said, nudging her. The younger girl slowly came to.

"Her… Her… um, `Mione. Morning."

"Good morning." Hermione studied her intently. She knew the moment that Ginny remembered: her eyes widened, they got teary, and her cheeks turned redder than her hair.

"Oh gods," she whispered, immediately burying herself in Hermione's arms.

Finally detangling herself, Hermione turned away and saw something which made her smile. Her blood ran cold for a moment, until she realised that it was still virtually the middle of the night. There was still time.

"Here you are," she said, picking up the small vial of potion. She handed it to Ginny.

"You did it! Thank you," she said. Uncapping the bottle, she had soon tipped the whole lot down her throat, swallowing eagerly. Hermione turned her attention to the note which had been hidden behind the bottle, lighting her wand so that she could read it.

_**My Hermione,**_

_**Please do not tell your friend who really procured this. The fewer people who know, the better. I watched you brewing the Pain Relief Potion for Miss Weasley last night, so I returned the phial that I had brought as well. Yours meant more.**_

He left it unsigned, but she knew who had written it. How could she not?

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling at the note.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, yawning the words as she stretched. She grimaced. "Do you have any more of that potion? I'm still… sore."

"Of course," Hermione said. She'd put aside plenty of the Pain Relief Potion, partly because she worried that Ginny would still ache the next day, and also for that day in the future when she would…

She wouldn't think about that now. Her friend needed her.

"How did you get it? And when?" Ginny asked. She held up the vial. "This isn't from the hospital wing. It hasn't got the label on it."

Hermione's eyes widened briefly. Her secret love must have brewed it himself.

_Love? Oh, stop thinking about that_, she thought.

"I… don't think I should tell you that," she said.

"But you must have brewed it…"

"Ginny!" She held up her hands. "Just… please. Stop. Go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some more sleep, okay? Hogsmeade weekend starts in only a few hours," she added.

"Sorry. I'm going. And… thank you, Hermione." She smiled as she stood. "You're the closest thing I've ever had to a sister."

"So are you," she said. Ginny nodded and left. Hermione's hands shook as she gathered together clothes to wear to the wizarding village, unable to sleep now. She wanted to stay behind, but knew that it would be suspicious. Besides, someone needed to be there in case Ginny broke down while they were out.

* * *

Peeves was avoiding the other ghosts. He had heard that Dumbledore was even researching poltergeists. He needed to work quickly if he was to become human before Hermione worked out who he really was. If she knew… she would hate him.

He didn't want her to hate him.

"Hermione," he whispered. After he had left the scene of his Malfoy-Destruction, he had beaten his head against a wall in the dungeons. At least, as much as he could actually beat his head. He had taken a big risk in speaking to Hermione, but he couldn't help himself. She was so delightfully irresistible.

Snape had upped the security over his ingredients after some went missing during Hermione's second year, and even more so two years later. Peeves had had no idea that his girl had been the thief the first time around. Cheeky little thing…

He chuckled, crossing his arms. The wards had presented no problem for him. But then his thoughts turned to the reason he had been working last night. Miss Weasley.

Had he known what was going on he would have put a stop to it. Centuries of young women had gone through Hogwarts, and many had lost their virginity for the wrong reason. He knew that no girl should let herself be taken advantage of when it came to losing their innocence.

Sudden horror shocked the hell out of him.

"What have _I_ been doing?" he said, louder than he intended. "Merlin, how low can I sink?"

He had to put a stop to this. He refused to be another Draco Malfoy.

It was a big risk, but it was for a good cause. After his despicable behaviour so far, Peeves was determined to make it up to Hermione before leaving her alone for good. It was all for the best.

He sighed, actually feeling pain at the thought of never touching her properly.

So, as Hermione's secret admirer, he exacted revenge for Miss Weasley, knowing that it would make Hermione happy, and thus make their separation easier for both of them.

Yes. Because that was how it was meant to be.

…Wasn't it?

* * *

"Look out, young Mr. Malfoy," he sang softly, following Malfoy. The prank from a few days ago was still in place, though various bits of garbage were gradually disappearing. But nothing could be too great a punishment for the boy who had caused such heartbreak.

He had used a spell that Alastor Moody had invented – before dismissing it as dark magic – during his fourth year. It was similar to using Legillimancy, only this could be performed from behind, not to mention wandlessly and non-verbally. That boy had been damn powerful; it was a pity that he had become so upstanding and focussed on his career, successful though he had been.

As it turned out, Miss Weasley wasn't the first victim of Draco Malfoy. Other girls had fallen prey to him, though it was usually due to his charms. The main charm was, of course, money. Worse than that, his fellow Slytherins all knew about his trysts. The way he boasted about them made him feel sick; it was something he hoped would never happen to his Hermione.

Unfortunately, while the boy should really have gone straight to Azkaban for having sex with minors, this would involve revealing their identities. After much thought, and some avoidance of Hermione, he came up with the most appropriate plan.

He would scare Malfoy into celibacy.

* * *

The blonde turned around, scowling when he heard a voice again. He'd never heard it before (as far as he could tell), and hoped that it wasn't another student coming to hex him. The old fool of a headmaster hadn't been able to do anything to reverse the curses.

Naturally, the whole thing had prompted a letter to his father, who was now busy discussing the matter with the board of governors. Until then, he had to put up with… ugh! All of…

When he came to, Malfoy was aware of some kind of tingling around his lower regions. It faded a little, but not completely. Seeing that he was alone, he checked inside his underpants as surreptitiously as he could, fully prepared to hide himself if any came along.

Nope. Everything was in place. He thought he had seen a glow, but it had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Must have imagined it," he muttered, standing up. As soon as he was vertical once again, the strange sensation left. He was so relieved that he missed the low cackle.

* * *

By dinnertime, after a day of classes with a few breaks, Malfoy was pale, and occasionally wincing or twitching. Most of the Slytherins were aware of his usual in-between class trysts with one of his regulars, such as Pansy Parkinson. However, his face had been all screwed up as he approached her after Potions; and when he touched her breasts with no preliminaries he yelped. Pansy had told their housemates that her 'poor Drakey-Poo' had clutched his…

And there she had stopped, seeing his fierce glare from the other side of the common room.

But everyone knew what she had been about to say.

Blaming her, he had sought out Millicent Bulstrode, and then someone from another house. It was all the same. Every time he had a sexual thought, or tried to touch a girl – hell, even a boy! – in a sexual way, he felt pain.

Madame Pomfrey had no explanation; nor did Professor Snape or the headmaster.

He sent another letter to his father immediately. The reply was too scathing for words, and made Howlers look harmless.

"I would say that Peeves had struck again," Dumbledore had said when Malfoy returned to him to complain some more, "if it was his style. But it isn't. Peeves is an exhibitionist; had he done something like this he would have made a song and dance of it – literally." He had chuckled, but Malfoy had remained unamused. "This seems more personal than the games of a poltergeist. We will simply have to hope that it wears off."

Surrounded by girls, however, was making it bloody difficult for Draco Malfoy not to think about sex. He couldn't even eat his dinner… especially when he had seen that sausages featured heavily.

* * *

"You did it, didn't you?"

There was silence, but he replied. "Yes."

"First the potion," Hermione said, "and now… whatever you did." He didn't speak. "I've never heard of any magic like that. How did you do it?"

A pause. "I know a great deal that is not taught here." His tone changed. "Uh, Hermione…"

"How much do you know?"

He chuckled. "How much do you wish to know?"

* * *

Hermione gasped. Her secret admirer had shown her into a large, single room on the fourth floor. He had led her blind-folded, and she finally knew how Belle must have felt when the Beast showed her the library.

Certainly, there weren't as many books – although there were a great deal – and it wasn't an open, airy place. But it was like the inside of a tower, all light-grey stonework, at least fifty feet high, towering bookshelves, a fireplace with two armchairs, a bed…

She blushed.

Hands gripped her shoulders. "This is where the ex-library books go," he whispered, his voice slightly muffled by her hair. He kissed the top of her head and held tighter. "Not many people know about this room. In fact, you're one of the few who has ever seen it."

"Wow," she said, her eyes taking in the rows of magical tomes.

"There are other books, too, but many of these are out-of-print, or out-of-date. There is no other collection like it in the world."

Hermione shut her eyes by herself this time, the blindfold dropping from her hands. She breathed in the smell of old books and musty castle. She listened to the firewood crackling and sparking, and tried to ignore the four-poster in one corner of the room.

"H-how do you get to the books up there?" she asked, pointing to the top of a shelf.

He pulled her close and sighed. "I fly."

"On your own, like… like V-voldemort?" she asked, her voice trembling as she gazed up.

"Yes," he said. "But he is gone. I am here."

"You are," she said, smiling. "But _where_?"

"…Hermione, I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This. I can't be with you. It would be wrong."

"Why?" she asked, the smile fading.

"I can't explain…"

"Try," she said; her voice had turned hard.

"Because…" He sighed again. "I don't want to be like Draco Malfoy."

Her eyes widened as she reached out for him. "No! You wouldn't be anything like him. I know you by now. You've made me so happy, I just know you could never be cruel. Not to me."

"I'm sorry…" he began, and she saw the door opening.

"Stop!" She slammed it shut, breathing heavily. "Is it me?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"What else?" he said, and he chuckled coldly. "It's me."

"I don't care what you look like," she said, hugging herself as she shuffled, glancing in the direction of his voice. "I'm not shallow. How could you think that of me?"

"Hermione, I don't."

"Have you been leading me on all this time?"

"I…" He stopped.

"Well?" she asked.

"We're getting in too deep," he muttered. "We should stop this now before things go too far."

Hermione felt her heart constrict as the door opened again. He really was going.

"But," she whispered, "I…"

"I am so sorry. I won't bother you anymore."

She shivered as he ran his fingers through her hair, fighting back the tears.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Please."

**

* * *

**

I got the idea for Peeves dismissing the idea of being with Hermione while I was writing this chapter. The fact that he sees what he is doing as wrong is a big point in his favour, and even influenced this last scene.

**To be continued!**


	10. Closer

"Closer"

"What is it you wish?" Peeves asked. Hermione tilted her head.

"Your speech… it changes," she said, off the subject. "Depending on what you're saying, it changes from formal to informal, and then back again. And your handwriting is exquisite, yet you do such other things with your hands that…" She blushed; he grinned.

"Which do you prefer?"

"The true you," she said. "Whatever your name is… and surely you can tell me now?"

"Not yet."

"You keep saying that!" She stamped her foot. "When?"

"It was going to be… that is…" He shuffled where he was in the air, still invisible. "I wanted to be with you, and I was going to reveal myself when…"

Annoyed with himself, he floated over to the potions table on the other side of the room from the fireplace. He gazed down at the tools he had used to make the Morning After Potion. He had kept extra aside at the time, for when he made love to Hermione. He couldn't do that anymore.

"When you what?"

He turned around. She hadn't noticed that he had moved. He moved back to her side, took her hand, and gently led her to the bed so that he could sit beside her.

"My feelings for you grow stronger everyday," he said softly. "I never thought it possible, that I could _ever _care about someone, let alone this fiercely." He pulled her into his arms, fitting together in a perfect embrace. He buried his nose in her hair. "It overwhelms me. But it can't continue."

"I want it to," she whispered. He looked down to see wetness on her cheeks. "Ever since Ginny, I've been thinking about us. I don't want something like that. I want to lose my virginity on my own terms, in my right mind… and with you."

Peeves could almost feel a heartbeat where his chest was supposed to be. He had pictured Hermione saying these words, but never like this.

"What?" he said.

"It's yours to take, by rights," she said. "You awakened something in me that no one else ever had. No one's ever even tried."

"That's because I'm a contemptible creature."

"You're not!" she said, pulling out of his embrace. "You're the man I…"

He waited, but she had stopped speaking. Instead she reached out until her hands made contact with his body. Ever since she'd told him what her ideal man looked like, he had practised looking like that person while remaining invisible. It was a hard habit to break, but necessary when he had to be the poltergeist, and not this… this persona that he had created for his own selfish means.

Now her palms were sliding up his chest, over his shoulders and up the sides of his head. Her thumbs sought out his lips and he gasped. With one hand at the back of his head, she pulled him down into a kiss.

Peeves let her lead for a bit, but eventually took over as things became heated. It seemed like no time passed before they were lying down on the bed, his body half over hers and his hands caressing the skin of her stomach. One ventured further, brushing the cup of her bra. The other moved around to support her lower back. He pulled her flush against his body, shifting so that he was straddling her thighs.

Hermione returned his ferocious kisses as though they were oxygen. At some point he had fastened her hands above her head with invisible bonds, so she had to use the rest of her body to drive him crazy. And it was working.

As soon as his lips met the freckle behind her left ear she spoke.

"I love you," she said.

He had never moved so fast in his life. He was off the bed and at the other side of the room in less than two seconds.

"You shouldn't have told me that," he said. "But thank you." He released the bonds.

"Why?" she asked, beetroot-red as she sat up, massaging her wrists.

"These are not the right circumstances," he said. "And I must think."

"You started this," she said as she straightened her clothes. She stood up. "Please don't finish it. Not now."

"Hermione." He returned to her and cupped her chin. "I couldn't say 'no' to you now. Just wait."

"So… will we…?"

"We will," he said, nodding. "We will. Very soon."

* * *

"Mudblood Alert," Malfoy said, sneering at Hermione as she passed. She rolled her eyes.

"You never learn, do you?" she said. "All these bad things happen, and you never think that maybe it's karma, that some higher power is giving you a sign?"

"No," he said. They had stopped in the otherwise-empty corridor and were now facing off. "It was just some stupid poltergeist and another joker who thinks they're the next Weaselby twin."

"Don't say that!" she snapped, eyes glinting as she glared at him.

"What, don't tell me you know who it is?" he said jokingly. But when she didn't answer immediately he grew suspicious, all humour leaving him. "You _do_ know, don't you? Granger, don't tell me it's _you_."

"Of course not," she said. "I wouldn't waste my time."

"What, not even for your blood traitor friend? The slut's not worth it," he said. Hermione yanked her wand out at the ready, and Malfoy drew his less than a heartbeat after.

"On the contrary," she said. "Ginny is _very_ worth it. You're just not worthy of my magic. You're not worthy of _any_ magic!"

He smirked, trying to regain control of the situation. "You're just jealous because I haven't given you any of," he stepped towards her, "'that' kind of attention. No wonder. Why should I sully myself with a Mudblood?" His gaze trailed down her body. "However, I'm more than willing to make an exception, just to teach you your place." He kept moving forward, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Get away from me!"

Malfoy never even knew what hit him. One moment he was advancing on the bushy-haired bookworm, the next he was hurtling through the window, across the grounds and into the domain of the Giant Squid.

* * *

Hermione dashed to the window, staring at the ripples in the water where Malfoy was flailing about. She heard laughter behind her and turned around swiftly. She was surprised to see Peeves hovering in the air, dangling upside down.

"Thank you, Peeves," she said, feeling almost shy. He grinned.

"A pleasure to please the Head Girl," he said, and then he began to sing.

"Poor Drakey, poor Drakey,

"Oh, what shall we do?

"He's gone in the lake-y,

"So let's cry woo-hoo!"

He showered her with red and gold sparks as he twirled, causing Hermione to laugh. She even dropped her schoolbag to clutch her stomach, doubled over. Tears of mirth (and maybe even relief?) ran down her face, even more so when she heard Malfoy's amplified voice.

"SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THE LAKE!" he shouted. Peeves snapped his fingers.

"Should have taken `is wand, too," he said. He did a somersault before bowing to Hermione. "So sorry you got caught up in this private war, Miss Granger."

Then he tipped his hat, saluted, and disappeared through the wall, repeating his rhyme.

"SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THIS BLOODY LAKE!" Malfoy bellowed. Hermione hummed the poltergeist's song as she skipped through the school.

* * *

She was still singing it at dinner.

"So you really had nothing to do with it?" Ron asked for the umpteenth time.

"Nope," Hermione said, now tapping out a rhythm on the surrounding bowls and plates with her knife and fork. "I'm not that powerful. I only have book smarts, remember? My power is limited to accurate application of acquired knowledge. Harry, for example, has true power. My wand is my instrument; his is a channel. Do you see what I mean?"

"No," they chorused, shaking their heads. Hermione sighed, chuckling.

"Never mind," she said. "It was just so gentlemanly of Peeves to defend me like that, though I think he just has a vendetta against Malfoy."

"Or Peeves fancies Hermione," Seamus muttered to Dean, but Hermione didn't hear it. She was singing again, her percussive accompaniment getting more complicated. Soon other students were listening and even watching. Finally she ended by dropping her cutlery behind the bench and looking from side-to-side like the Swedish Chef on _The Muppet Show_. Harry got it immediately and began to laugh.

"You're in a good mood," he said. "Maybe you should hang out with more poltergeists. It's great to see you loosening up."

"Well, Christmas is almost a month away," she said. "Malfoy's lucky that the lake wasn't frozen over."

"He's still in the hospital wing, though," Luna said.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer person," Ginny said. She was sitting with them once again, her experience having cleared her head somewhat. Something like that. Whatever it was, she was back with her friends again, even though things weren't quite right yet.

It was only a matter of time.

**

* * *

**

If it seems that Hermione is being extraordinarily slow about her secret admirer's identity, please remember that it would never occur to her that a poltergeist could woo her into submission. I mean, would any of you believe it?

**But that's the beauty of OOC-ness in fan fiction. Right? Of course right.**

**Whether you think that Malfoy was still being shocked by Peeves' spell while he was trying to seduce Hermione (if you can even call that seduction), or if you think the opposite, it matters not. If he really wasn't feeling anything like that, it would be because the spell only affects him when he wants pleasure out of what he's doing. This means that, should he need to produce an heir, he can still do so, but only out of obligation. I guess you could say that he'll never experience pleasure again, unless it's forced out of him, and even then it would still hurt.**

**Ooh, I'm wicked. I should have been a vengeance demon.**

**(Yay for Buffy and Muppet Show references!)**


	11. One Last Letter

"One Last Letter"

Before Hermione could plonk her homework down she had to pick up a letter that had been written by her secret admirer. She sat down heavily, her heart speeding up with the first few lines.

_**My dearest Hermione,**_

_**This is the last letter I shall write to you. Our time together has meant so much that I have found myself growing far too attached to you for my liking. This has caused a great problem for me.**_

_**But you are such a fascinating and sensual woman that I merely have to think of you for all my problems to fade; and I think about you nearly all the time. Most of my waking hours you haunt me, and every dream is of you: under me, over me, beside me; your hands, your lips, your legs, your everything.**_

Hermione fanned herself. At least the tone of the note had changed to a more positive one… _very_ positive.

_**I try to stay away from you – I even considered leaving you alone for good – but you draw me back every time. It is no use.**_

_**This started in the most obscene way. I have very good reason for having concealed my identity so far, and I can only hope that you will not hate me when I reveal myself. For I will. Despite my early motives you have changed all that, and you have swept away any misgivings. I should have known that you would be too strong-willed.**_

She could imagine him smiling, even laughing, while he wrote that. The thought brought a smile to her own face.

_**That is why this is my last letter. I am desperate to have you in my arms and be in your life. As soon as I take you I will remove my disguise; but you must give yourself to me completely. Only if you are truly willing will this work out.**_

_**Please be ready for me by nine-thirty this Friday night. Then we can have the weekend to plan the rest of our lives together.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Your secret admirer.**_

She gulped. This was it. Well, almost it.

_The rest of our lives together_, she thought. _Merlin help me, but I want nothing more than that_.

Beaming, she hugged the letter to her chest, trying hard to keep from squealing. Considering it was either that or crying, she allowed herself a small squeak. At first.

Seconds later she was bouncing on her bed, laughing and jumping for joy.

* * *

Peeves watched her from the corner nearest her desk. This was it. He would soon be able to make love to Hermione Granger and become everything she wanted.

Being a poltergeist, he had had no plans for his own life. Now he wanted them, and only with her.

Friday couldn't come fast enough.

"I'm willing," he heard her say breathlessly as she slowed the bed-bouncing. "And I'll be his forever."

* * *

**Sorry about the short chapter, but this scene seemed kind of important; and it balances out the longer chapters that we've had, especially… was it "Lighter Days" that went on for flipping ever? Can't remember.**

**Next chapter… "The Night".**


	12. The Night

"The Night"

_How do I prepare for this_? Hermione thought, looking around the room. She had completed her homework in record time, fitting it in wherever she could. The school year wasn't even half over yet, but tonight was going to be the start of the rest of her life; she could just feel it. If not tonight, certainly tomorrow.

"Candles," she murmured. "Must have candles."

It was around quarter to nine and her hands were shaking as she set up some plain white candles. Rather than risk setting something on fire due to a wand misfire, she instead lit one at the fireplace and used that to do the rest. When the last was in place she pulled back the bedcovers.

Even though she had washed herself thoroughly she cast a Freshening Charm, checked her breath and fiddled with her hair in front of the mirror. Her reflection still made her frown, but if her secret admirer wanted to make love to her then she would have no objections. In fact, she could consider herself a very lucky girl.

"This is it," she said. She was wearing her best nightie, modified so that it only fastened at the neck. To save time she hadn't bothered with underwear. She should have been shivering with the winter cold, but the fire provided just enough warmth to prevent that. And his touch was guaranteed to make her hot.

She glanced over at her bedside table. Her wand was lying there as well as a few vials of Pain Relief Potion. She hoped that he could get her some Morning After Potion should they get too caught up to remember contraception. If ever they made plans for a longer commitment – she could hardly think of marriage when she didn't even know his name – then perhaps they could discuss having children. But while she was at school? No way.

With a shaky breath she tried to picture how she would remove her nightgown. Or would he take it off? If so, how?

"No," she said, shaking her head as her trembling hands attacked the bow at middle of the neckline. She ripped the whole thing off, balled it up in her hands and then shoved it into her school trunk. That at least took care of one problem.

It was almost time. She glanced around the room, still not sensing his presence, and climbed onto the bed. It was tempting to squirm around into a relatively seductive position (not that she knew any), but crumpled sheets were hardly a good look.

And then she knew that he was there.

* * *

She was blushing, and not just in her face. Peeves floated, still invisible of course, but in the form he knew Hermione would like. At least, he hoped that she would like it.

"Beautiful," he said, taking in her cream-coloured skin, pink nipples, and that brown patch of delight he had come to know so well. Now he would become acquainted with all of it, in as many ways as she would allow.

"I'm not," she whispered. He frowned.

"You are," he said. He concentrated on being solid all over, just as he had the other day, and sat on the bed. He reached over and grasped her right hand. "Absolutely stunning."

"Oh." She half-smiled as she looked down at the sheets. "I… I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing."

He pushed her back on the bed and crawled over her quivering form. Nudging her legs apart, he fit himself within their embrace. Her lips parted as she breathed unevenly.

"Calm down," he said, bending over. His mouth met hers as his hands caressed her sides. She felt warm and silky and soft, goosebumps forming wherever he roamed. Their tongues met, lazily moving together. Peeves kept his eyes open only because he wanted to see as much of her as he could. However, when she wound her arms around his waist, his eyelashes fluttered shut.

_I love her_, he thought. _I think I love her_.

* * *

Hermione whimpered when she felt what was brushing her inner thighs. Was it going to be soon?

She tore her lips away from his, only for him to start suckling on her neck. She gasped.

"Now?" she asked. "Will it… will you do it now?"

"No," he said. He moved her arms away and began to slide down her body. Little bites here and there on her sensitive skin; fingers playing with her breasts; a tongue painting strange patterns on her flesh; hands slowly making their way towards their goal.

"Oh!"

"So wet," he moaned, pumping out a familiar tune between her legs. She mewled as he added another finger. When his nose brushed against her clit she jumped.

"Oh, please!"

"Soon," he said. "I promise."

"Did you… did you bring…" Hermione couldn't think straight. Yes, he had done this before, but the knowledge that they were about to go even further heightened the experience.

"Did I bring what?" He curled one finger inside her and she squeaked as she came. It was hardly surprising; his other hand was occupied with her breasts, pinching and squeezing the nipples. The tiny bolts of pain actually felt good, though she wouldn't have liked anything stronger than that.

"I… can't remember," she said, still shuddering.

"Then it mustn't have been important."

* * *

Moving back to stay level with her, Peeves gently widened her legs again. He stroked her thighs, feeling how tense she was.

"Relax," he said. "Please, Hermione." He tickled behind her knees, making her giggle. "That's better."

While he positioned himself with one hand he continued to study the girl before him, soon to be a woman.

_I can finally be with her,_ he thought. _Gods, she's enchanting._

He smiled as he laid down; one arm went around her waist, the other behind her shoulders to cup the back of her head. Closing his eyes he kissed her again, getting an immediate response.

Yes, she was wet, but extra help never hurt anyone. Concentrating on his body – such as it was – he made himself as cold as possible down there. Hermione gasped.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Just making it easier for you," he said, easing himself in. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Oh gods," she said, shaking. "I don't even know you. Why am I doing this?"

"Why are you asking questions _now_?" he asked, frustrated. "Hermione, you know me better than anyone else. You said that you loved me!"

"I do," she said. He could feel the tension leaving again as she smiled. "I do love you. I don't know how it happened, but it did."

"And I love you," he said, stroking her hair. _If not now, I will when I get my body_, he thought. _Then I'll be able to show you just how deeply I feel… in every sense of the word_.

Peeves felt her barrier. Hermione bit her lower lip, tensing again.

"It's going to hurt," she said.

"Would you rather someone else hurt you like this?"

"No! No. I want you."

"I know. So stop. Being. Nervous."

He swooped in for another kiss, pouring as much passion and fire into it as he could. Her hands clutched at his back again as she pushed her hips forward. He plunged in, swallowing her cries, and concentrating on the image in his mind. He had to get it right the first time.

* * *

Finally she had to pull back for breath. Grasping at oxygen, Hermione forced her eyes open, unseeing through the ache. But it ebbed away quickly, and she was able to focus on the man above her. Her eyes widened.

"You're just how I imagined you'd be," she whispered. Royal blue eyes shone down, medium-sized pink lips were quirked up in an ecstatic smile, brown hair was threatening to fall over his eyes, and he seemed to be just a bit taller than her. Even though she couldn't see the rest of him, she was sure that he was just perfect – and…

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm… I'm not pretty enough for you," she said. He frowned.

"Don't think like that," he said. "You're stunning, my love, and…" The smile returned. "I love you, Hermione." He laughed. "I love you!"

Her own watery smile came back as she reached up to stroke his face. "And I love you…"

* * *

**What do you think of it so far?**

**To be continued!**


	13. The Night Continues

"The Night Continues"

"I can't tell you my name. Not yet."

"Why no-ot?" Hermione gasped, her back arching as he thrust in harder. Then he returned to his gentle rocking, dragging moans from her lips. "I've g-given up trying to recognise your v-voice."

Peeves revelled in the sensation of breathing. His lungs filled with sweet, sweet air, and then expelled warm breath. His body – his _body_! – was growing hot, and he was actually sweating. The bed sheets were both coarse and smooth against his legs and hands. It was a bloody miracle.

And Hermione… ah, there was another miracle. Sex turned out to be even better than he had imagined. He had never conceived just how perfect it could be. Their bodies were rubbing together with wonderful abandon. He surged in and out of her scorching wetness, legs and feet tangled and hands grabbing and stroking. Their lips fused together every so often, but then a new feeling would force them apart again.

"Hermione, I really love you," he said, holding her still against him. He had to have a breather before something happened early. "I want you to know that."

"I know you do," she said, her eyes squeezed shut as she clung onto him, her chin tucked over his left shoulder. "I'm so glad you came into my life, even though I still don't know who you are."

"You will soon," he promised. He kissed her neck. She tasted so sweet. "You don't hate me for starting this?"

"No. I could never hate you."

Feeling confident again, Peeves pulled back a bit, grabbed her hips in both hands, and thrust down. Hermione cried out, pressing her body upwards. The sight and sound fuelled his lust.

This was right. This was so right. She could feel it in her bones. She had never known what was missing inside her, not until now; little did he know it, but he was not only filling a physical hole with his love, but the empty place in her heart that she had kept for someone like him. Yes, making love was marvellous. They were one. But this was about so much more than just satisfaction, even more than showing their love for each other. She couldn't say what it was, but it was like… it was like they couldn't have been together until the moment she gave herself to him.

"Tell me what you're feeling," he said.

"Too much," she said, shaking her head. "Can't describe it."

"Overwhelmed?" He was finding it hard to form words, too.

"Yeah." She nodded frantically. "So… so overwhelming…"

Tightening his grip around her body, Peeves rolled so that she was now on top of him. She gazed down.

"What…?"

"I want you to have fun as well," he said. That was better. With her sitting still, he was able to think properly. "This is love, Hermione. It doesn't have to be so serious." With a wicked grin he trailed his hands up her sides until he got to her underarms. As soon as he started to tickle her she squeaked with laughter, scrunching up on his lap as she convulsed. She had to place her hands on his chest to steady herself.

"You… evil… _git_," she said, trying to catch her breath. Her muscles squeezed him in response to the tickling and he grabbed her waist.

"You're the evil one," he said. His hands wandered down to cup her, two fingers dipping between her legs from behind to tease her. She pushed back against them.

"How?"

"So delectable," he helped her grind down, "so bright," he bucked up, "so breathtaking."

"Tell me your name," she said, starting to ride him. He watched with fire in his eyes.

"Look at you," he moaned, "bouncing in my lap like I was a trampoline. You know what you feel like?"

"No. What do I feel like?" she asked.

He yanked her down against his chest and consumed her mouth in a powerful kiss. While she was distracted he rolled them back over so that she was beneath him, her hair fanning out over the pillow. He ran his hand through the messy locks, massaging her right thigh with the other. She wound her legs around his torso, pulling him further into her.

"More," she begged. "Please. More."

He picked up the pace, sinking deeper each time and making her jerk in his arms. Their lips met again, very briefly.

"Let me show you," he said.

Her very breath was stolen from her as he propped himself up on his elbows, holding her arms in place, and driving in, hard. Over and over he pumped into her body, heeding her cries for 'more!', 'harder!' and 'take me!'. He couldn't speak; he could only grunt, moan, and think her name. He didn't even have the courage to speak it.

"Don't forget," he whispered. "I love you."

Hermione couldn't work it out, but she definitely wasn't complaining. She tried to tell him how she felt.

"I need… I need you to c-come in me," she said. Her feet trailed lower to push him further inside. "Claim me. I'm yours."

"You're mine," Peeves hissed. "No one else can have you, Hermione. No one."

"Gods, I want your children," she said, her inner muscles sucking at him. "I've never wanted any; but I want yours." She was delirious in her passion; otherwise she wouldn't have said what she did. "Give me children. I want your baby. I have to have your baby. Every one. Promise me."

"I'll give you everything," he said, wrapping himself around her again as they neared the end.

"Ah!" She knew that something was about to happen. She was only seconds away from something big. Something huge.

"Say a name."

"What?"

"A name – any name!" He stilled for a moment. "When you come, say the first name that comes to your head." _Make it a good one_, he thought. "Only then can I tell you."

"P-promise?" His words barely penetrated; and as her orgasm crept up on her she became deaf to the outside world, only aware of the rush of her blood and the tightening in her womb.

"Yes," he said, but she never heard.

_A name? What name_? she thought frantically. _I… I can't think of any_…_ not even mine._

It was difficult to think of anything outside of this moment, but she did her best. One person had been on her mind lately, almost the same as her secret admirer.

At the time, her mind must have made an unconscious connection, as it just seemed logical. Neither immediately registered the name she shouted, but shout it she did.

"PEEVES!"

* * *

**Gah! Okay, who saw that coming?**

**(No pun intended.)**

**This is one of those ideas I came up with while I was playing solitaire. Approve?**


	14. After Glow

"After Glow"

Peeves followed Hermione over the edge, joined at the hips as he filled her. With every spurt he thrust into her, pumping himself dry. Her inner muscles sucked out everything that he had, drawing it all inside.

"Take it," he hissed. She whimpered, and he delighted in the sound. "Take it all."

She simply nodded frantically, gasping with each surge. Neither remembered that she was still a schoolgirl; they were just two people in love, damn the consequences. She knew what she wanted to come of this warmth pouring into her body; she wanted the ultimate sign that they had been together.

"Please, please, please," she chanted. "Please give me a baby. Show everyone I'm yours. Please."

He kept her plastered against his body and sucked on her lips, alternating between top and bottom. She let out a cry, tightening one last time, before relaxing completely. He continued to move, smiling at the sated look on his lover's face. It spoke of utter bliss. There were dried tears at the corners of her eyes, and he traced their paths with his thumbs. She looked at him and smiled tiredly as he came to a standstill.

"Hi," she said softly.

"You all right?"

"Splendid." She stretched, her body pushing him upwards. He pulled out and lay beside her. Then she winced. "Ooh. I hurt a bit."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Do you have…?"

"Over there," she said, tilting her head towards her bedside table. He Summoned a phial of Pain Relief Potion with a wave of his hand. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Here," he murmured, uncorking the bottle. He tipped it down her throat, stroking her lips as she swallowed. He returned the empty vial to its place and then kissed her. She rolled into his embrace, allowing him to cradle her close.

"Thank you," she said. "Tha-ank," she yawned, "you."

Peeves chuckled as he nuzzled her cheek. "And thank you, Hermione."

She shut her eyes, wishing that he was still inside her but too exhausted to do anything about it. "I love you," she said. She'd lost count of how many times she had said it, but it didn't matter. She would keep saying it as long as she was awake. "Don't forget to tell me your name… but that can wait `til morning."

He frowned as he remembered something.

"How did she know?" he mumbled. Hermione made a small, questioning sound. "How did you know?"

"K-know what?"

"How did you know, and… and why did you still do it, knowing…?" He trailed off.

"I love you," she said, snuggling up to him. "That's why I did it."

Peeves felt something prickling his eyes. He raised his left hand, and smiled at the tear on his forefinger. Looking back down at her he saw that she had fallen asleep. Shuffling down beside her he closed his eyes.

And, for the first time in his existence, he fell asleep, too.

* * *

Waking early in the morning, Peeves had to blink several times to work out where he was, and then why he was there. Looking to the side, he saw his young lover, splayed out with a great, big smile on her face. Smug, he rolled over to study her properly.

There was certainly a glow about her. He hoped that no one else noticed it, for her sake. Those pink lips of hers were still puffy from last night, her hair was messier than usual, and he even noticed a few love bites that he must have made without noticing. A lot had gone on last night that he hadn't noticed, so overcome with being alive.

At that thought he sat up, swung his legs over the side and left the bed. Her long mirror was in its usual place, so he decided to examine what he had given himself.

Looking at her sleeping body had awakened a certain part of his anatomy, and he noticed with guilt that there was blood on it. He glanced back to see the same blood between her thighs. In a sadder frame of mind he turned back to the mirror.

Just as she wanted, he had made his eyes an even, sapphire blue. His hair was dark-ish and tousled, no doubt from the night before. There were also marks from their love-making on his arms, chest and shoulders. A bit of hair adorned his chest, legs… and other places. Not to mention the bit of fuzz on his face. Why did he have to be one of those men who grew beards quickly? At least he knew a good spell or two.

Peeves didn't want Hermione to wake up alone in bed, so he lay back down beside her. She was still slumbering, so he pulled her close, shut his eyes, and slipped into a doze.

* * *

So many times had Hermione awoken hoping that, just for once, her secret admirer would be there. For once, it actually felt real.

However, when she opened her eyes she realised that her arms were around a physical being, that warm breath was tickling her face… that she wasn't alone!

"Oh my," she whispered, staring at his face. Her secret admirer. He was right here just as she had pictured him, right down to the last detail. Even the shape of his nose was the same, and his ears, and his eyebrows. Everything.

She shuffled a bit and winced at the pain between her legs. Remembering the potions on her bedside table she rolled out of his embrace, reached over and grabbed a vial. She heard him stirring behind her, so she swallowed the liquid quickly, re-corked the bottle and then turned around.

He smiled up at her sleepily.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said.

"Good morning," she replied. Her memory searched for what happened the night before. "Uh… are you going to tell me your name? Or did you already tell me?" She blushed. "A lot happened last night, didn't it?"

"Yes." He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Yes, it did."

"So… _did_ you tell me?"

"B-but," he paused to yawn widely, "you already knew who I was."

"Ye-es," she said slowly. "You're my secret admirer. My…" she trailed a few fingers down his left arm, "lover." She smiled gently. "I do love you, you know."

"I know," he said, eyes shining. She so easily got lost in them, just like she knew she would. "And I love you."

"So tell me your name," she said.

"But…" He frowned, having said that same word before. Yet he still didn't understand. "You said it. Shouted it, actually. What I want to know is why you still gave yourself to me knowing who I was. You should hate me for what I did." He traced a pattern on the bed-sheets, trying to ignore the patch of dried blood nearby.

"I don't hate you," she said absently, casting about to remember what she had screamed.

'_A name – any name! When you come, say the first name that comes to your head. Then I can tell you who I am.'_

She blushed when she remembered how eagerly she had obeyed, and loudly at that. But then she recalled the name she had used…

'_PEEVES!'_

Her eyes widened as she looked down at her secret admirer, not even noticing that she had sat up abruptly.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head frantically. "No. Not you. It can't be you."

* * *

**So what will happen now, my lovely readers? You'll find out soon enough…**

**Please review! It doesn't take very long at all.**


	15. Betrayal

**Warning: A bit of bad language in this one, too. Only a bit, I promise! Oh, and I'm kind of prepared for you all to hate me by the end of this chapter, but hopefully I'll have justified stuff along the way. Just please see this story through to the end!**

"Betrayal"

"Hermione." Peeves reached out a hand, but she yanked hers away from him. "Hermione, please listen to me…"

"No!" She stood up, realised that she was naked and grabbed the corner of the quilt to cover herself. "Please tell me it isn't you. Please tell me this is just a mistake." He averted his gaze and she moaned. "No, no, no. You wouldn't. You _can't_."

"I… I did, and… and I c-can," he said, looking down at his hands. "Hermione…"

"This has all been a…" She shook her head again, trailing off.

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled. She laughed bitterly.

"It all makes sense now," she said. "Not speaking too much, just in case I recognised the voice of the school _poltergeist_. Being invisible but still able to make things move. Your kisses were… were _always_ dry. I never tasted anything. And you were able to get into the room without removing the wards or anything."

"You're right, of course."

"Yet you're here now." She ran her hands through her hair. "I don't understand."

"Please let me explain." Peeves leaned forward, his eyes raking over Hermione's form. She immediately grabbed the blanket back and tried to wind it around her body. "I didn't mean for things to happen the way that they did…"

"You're supposed to be a ghost," she said. "You're not real."

"I was real enough last night."

She blinked back tears, determined not to cry in front of him. She could be strong. Really. She could.

"You…"

"Use my name," he whispered. She'd never seen anyone so serious. "Please."

She drew in a shaky breath. "Peeves." He shut his eyes, frowning slightly. "You took the most important thing from me."

"You _gave_ it to me," he said, standing up. She took a step back, even though he was on the other side of the bed. "Willingly."

"I was deceived! You lied to me!"

"I _never_ lied to you," he said, pointing at her. "You made assumptions."

"You led me on."

"You said that you loved me!"

"You made me!" she shrieked, waving her arms. The sheet fell again. Sick of it, she grabbed her dressing gown from a nearby chair and wrapped it around herself. She noticed the blood between her legs and felt the sadness and betrayal well up inside.

Peeves took some calming breaths. "Hermione… I love…"

"Bastard," she said. He froze.

"I… I beg your pardon?"

"I called you," she gulped, "a bastard." She looked at him over her shoulder, avoiding his eyes. "Everything you've done…"

He remained silent while she thought. He felt the noose tightening around his neck… or was it around his heart? Whatever it was, he was wishing that he'd stayed a poltergeist. At least he didn't have to _feel_…

"Was it," she said, and he braced himself, "because you were bored? Have the Weasley twins managed to outdo you at last? Or worse, was this all a big prank? Did you just do it for the Slytherins, and all this business with Draco Malfoy was just a cover?"

He sighed. "The second one. I felt redundant; I needed a change of pace."

"Well, you've certainly had that 'change of pace' now," she said. Pulling the gown tighter around herself, she glanced out of the frosted window. "Go. Just go away."

"Hermione." He took a step forward. "Wait…"

"Go! I never want to see you again," she said.

Still staring out the window, Hermione steadfastly refused to look back, even as she heard the door close.

* * *

Stairs. He'd seen thousands of people using stairs – possibly more – and knew the mechanics of it. But negotiating them was considerably harder than it looked. Still, he had picked up everything else quickly.

One foot down, then the next, then yet another. Hands out at either side to support himself, he stumbled to the bottom of the staircase, nearly tripping on the final step, and then grabbed the wall to get his footing. To his immense relief he saw that MacMillan wasn't around, which was just as well. He couldn't have dealt with questions, and he doubted that Hermione was ready to answer any, either.

Oh. Especially as he was still naked. Clothes were certainly going to be an interesting sensation. Comforted that his knowledge was still intact, he conjured underwear, jeans, a collared shirt, socks and boots onto his body. There. It was okay… he supposed.

He had to get to Dumbledore before Hermione could, and put forth his side of the story first. Was it selfish? Of course it was. But look at how he had behaved so far; selfishness was mild by comparison.

"Goodbye, love," Peeves murmured, glancing back at the stairs. No sign of Hermione; he couldn't even hear her. When he tried to fly off, however, he found that he couldn't. Frowning, he walked over to the fireplace. Using wandless magic he banished the flames before stepping in. He closed his eyes and pictured the headmaster's office.

It worked. Only people with a deep connection to Hogwarts could do this; in fact, he was probably the first person since the Founders to try it. Flooing without floo powder.

He stumbled out of the hearth at the other end, glad – for the first time – that he was in the headmaster's office.

* * *

Hermione paced. She couldn't believe how she had reacted. Yes, it was a huge shock that she had slept with the poltergeist of Hogwarts. If she'd known it was him she never would have done it.

"It could have been a prank," she muttered. "It really could have been."

She looked at the patch of blood on her sheets and hung her head. What she had done was shameful. How many times had she promised herself that she would wait until her wedding night, until she was with the man she loved and who loved her?

His face. He'd looked so sincere. What if he _had_ been sincere? What if he really did love her? How could he?

She knew she should hate him. Logic told her that she should hate him for not telling her who he was right from the start. He had had so many opportunities.

"Why me?" she whispered, looking towards the ceiling. In doing so she noticed the painted vines on her bed, and the drawing of Ferret Malfoy, and… and everything that he had made and done for her.

Why didn't she hate him?

"Because I love him," she said. She smiled. "Nothing else matters. I love him!"

* * *

Dumbledore looked up, startled. He hadn't seen the flames turned green. The man stomped his shoes on the floor before looking up.

"Professor," he said. The headmaster was touched by how miserable the stranger looked, and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. With a nod, the man sat down.

"How may I help you?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"I don't know." He looked haunted. "I don't think anyone can help."

"Well, then, first things first. What is your name, and why did you come here?"

"Oh, gods." The stranger put his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. "I've done something terrible. I should be lynched for what I've done."

"Calm down. I'm sure it isn't that bad."

"It's worse." The haunted look grew worse. "It's so much worse."

"Your name, sir?" Dumbledore said, more than slightly concerned.

"My name?" He looked confused for a moment, but then it cleared. "Oh, yes. It's Peeves."

"As in our poltergeist?" A nod. "That… no."

"I wish people would stop saying that," Peeves muttered.

"Peeves, it _cannot_ be you," Dumbledore said, wide-eyed. "Can it?"

"It is." He looked more miserable than ever.

"But… how did this happen?"

Just then the fire changed, and Hermione stepped into the room. She smiled shyly and walked towards Peeves. He smiled back and stood up to meet her, a look of dawning hope on his face.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," the headmaster said.

"Good morning, sir."

"Uh… I do have a… guest," he looked strangely at Peeves, "so perhaps this isn't the…" Then his eyes widened again and he opened one of his desk drawers. He swiftly pulled out a book and opened it to the index. He trailed a finger down the page until he found what he was looking for and then turned to it in the tome. Eyes darting back and forth, he took in every word before raising his eyes to the man before him. Peeves was softly stroking Hermione's arm, but he turned around when the headmaster cleared his throat. He turned white when he saw the open book.

"It's in there?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Peeves, how _could_ you?" he said.

"How could he what?" Hermione demanded, looking confused. Suddenly, Dumbledore understood.

"Miss Granger? You used Miss Granger to gain life?" he said, his voice steady but loud. Peeves sat down heavily and rested his head in his hands.

"I… I tried to make it easier on her," he said. "I never meant no `arm." Then he frowned, having fallen back into his poltergeist manner of speech. "I mean, yes. I did want to become human, but…"

"_What_?" Hermione grabbed the book from the headmaster and read the paragraph on poltergeist humanising. She swallowed and then looked up. "I see."

"Hermione, I never meant to hurt you," Peeves said softly, reaching across to her arm. She slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me, you… you disgusting animal!" She threw the book onto Dumbledore's desk and stood up. "You've played me for a bigger fool than I thought I was. And to think…" Her voice broke.

"Miss Granger, surely you didn't…" Dumbledore trailed off. "Forgive me, my dear. That was a foolish question. But I don't understand why you would throw away your innocence like that."

"I didn't know that I was throwing it away," she said, her voice and posture now stiff.

"What did you think?"

"He _tricked_ me!" She pointed at Peeves accusingly. "I thought that he loved me, and that I l-loved him, even after… But I was wrong."

Peeves looked at her sorrowfully. "What were you wrong about?" he asked quietly.

She glared down at him. "_Every_thing."

He swallowed and stood up as well. Dumbledore studied the strange couple.

"I trust you used protection," he said. Hermione paled.

"I forgot," she said. "I forgot to cast the Spell. Not that it would have been of any use beforehand, since it only works on human males," Peeves looked guilty, "but I should have taken a Morning After Potion. I… I thought that you'd bring one."

"I was so eager to get to you," he said. "I honestly thought that I'd remember, and I certainly didn't expect either of us to fall asleep so soon, or stay asleep."

She looked over at the clock. It was a quarter to ten. They must have slept through breakfast.

"I may be too late," she said. Images flashed through her mind; words that she had said, thoughts that she had had.

'_Gods, I want your children. I've never wanted any; but I want yours. Give me children. I want your baby. I have to have your baby. Promise me.'_

'_I'll give you everything.'… 'Take it. Take it all.'_

'_Please, please, please. Please give me a baby.'_

Begging to have his children, she had completely forgotten contraception. She had forgotten nearly everything: her education, her friends, her family, even her own name; everything but the feeling of him, and the desperation to be pregnant by this man who had betrayed her. What if he _had_ impregnated her?

"This can't happen," she said quickly. "Professor, I'll do anything."

Dumbledore sighed. "Fortunately I always have some prepared, just in case." He walked over to a small potions cabinet and retrieved a vial. "Will it be within the twelve-hour limit?"

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "No. It's been about… well, more like thirteen hours. Not much more than that."

"Well, the limit is approximate," he said, handing it over. She accepted and downed it gratefully. "It can differ from person to person. You are young; it may work better for you. And who would buy a potion with a thirteen-hour limit on it?" He chuckled half-heartedly. "It is more a provisional amount of time. Still, you can go to Madame Pomfrey within a few weeks for a proper test. Are your parents expecting you at home?"

"No," she said. "I told them that I needed to study this year, so they're going to Vienna."

Peeves watched the conversation with a heavy heart. He could understand Hermione's desire not to be pregnant, especially by him, but it still hurt. The look of horror on her face didn't just stem from the fear of teen pregnancy, he was sure of it.

"I should leave," he said, turning away.

"Yes, you should," Hermione said. He flinched but continued his walk to the door. His right hand shook as it reached out for the doorknob; however, when she remained silent he knew that it was a lost cause.

"Just a moment," Dumbledore said. "May I advise keeping this between us?"

"Of course," Peeves said. "I wouldn't dream of telling anyone." He saw that Hermione still had her back to him. "Good luck, Hermione. I hope you get what you want."

He nodded at the headmaster and then left the office, shutting the door quietly.

"I am so sorry, my dear," Dumbledore said, closing the book as he studied the Head Girl. "Had I known what he was planning…"

"It's fine," she said, raising her chin. "I'll just… chalk it up to experience. Just like Ginny."

She flooed out of the office again, only speaking to say her destination, and Dumbledore sat down.

"In my own school," he said. "How could this happen?" Then he remembered something that she had said. "What about Miss Weasley?

* * *

**Ooh, drama. Sigh. I'm just trying to make it realistic. I mean, she has every right to be angry, and Peeves has every right to be ashamed.**

**Of course, then readers wanted an immediate happily ever after, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. So I just added the bit where she wants to forgive him. And my additional warning at the top.**

**Please review, my dears!**

**By the way, who wants Hermione to be pregnant?**

**And Hermione knew where Peeves was because it would be logical for him to go to Dumbledore… not to mention the fact that she just… just **_**knew**_** where he would be.**


	16. The Days That Follow

**Warning: prissy, aren't I? Swearing in this chapter, too.**

"The Days That Follow"

Hermione longed for the Cruciatus Curse. She had felt it before, and knew the hell that it provided; but she also knew that it would be a welcome respite from this… this horrendous ache inside. The ache left by a certain ex-poltergeist.

Honestly, she could have cursed him. Instead, she avoided him. If ever she felt his presence nearby she would go in the opposite direction, making various vague excuses. She even turned up late to class a few times because she had taken a different route to class, or had pretended to return to her room for a book or quill.

Quills. She couldn't even think about them without thinking of Peeves.

"Damn it!" she said, throwing one down. Professor McGonagall turned around as the rest of the class fell silent. Hermione turned red.

"Miss Granger," the professor said, "did you really just say that?"

"Uh…" She looked down. That said it all.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, and if it happens again you will receive detention. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good." She turned back to the blackboard and Hermione got on with her work. Her notes were less detailed than usual and her thoughts kept wandering. At best, they were of the argument the morning after; at worst, of their happiest moments together; like the moment they became one.

And now she felt as though she could never be whole again.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry whispered. She frowned, tilting her head.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about," she said, straightening her parchment unnecessarily, then putting it on an angle again. She glanced up at their professor, twirled her quill and ignored her friend's funny looks.

It was the Wednesday after… the Thing That Happened. Hermione's Deflowering. Peeves' Betrayal.

There she went, thinking his name again.

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. Just like Ginny, she had thrown her virginity away on the wrong person; only this time she was possibly pregnant. Unfortunately she wouldn't know for a few weeks. At least she hadn't been showing signs… yet.

Swallowing, she rubbed her chest and completely missed what Professor McGonagall said.

* * *

Ducking behind a pillar, Peeves cursed himself for his lingering poltergeist nature. He had to suppress the urge to yell 'boo!' at the Slytherin first years getting nearer. But, damn it all, he let them go past uninterrupted.

He shook his head at his folly. He may have changed for Hermione, but now that they were no longer together his resolve could crumble…

And crumble it did.

With a cackle, he burst from his hiding spot and produced a flash of lightning and colour that scared two of the students into running away and the third to wet himself. Peeves twisted his face into a maniacal look and stepped forward. Now the firstie ran for it, and the former poltergeist once again laughed.

Once they were out of sight, however, he slumped back against the wall. He didn't know whether or not he could leave Hogwarts, but if he could then he would go straight to Ollivander's for a wand.

Wait a moment. He had the knowledge of centuries of learning. Why go to someone else when he could very easily make his own wand right here?

Well, it would involve going into the Forbidden Forest to obtain some wood, and he would no doubt have trouble acquiring the core; but it might be his only chance. Wandless magic was dandy, and the only way to perform some spells, but it took a bit out of him. Of course, that could have been his new body.

Technically, he was only four and a half days old. Maybe when he reached ten days he could have a celebration?

_With whom_? he thought bitterly. He swallowed the rising lump in his throat. _No one's ever wanted me around… `cept maybe the Weasley twins, and they… they're the reason all of this began! And Hermione wanted me around, too…_

_Bugger! There I go thinking her name again._

He shook his head and went in search of more trouble, determined to put her out of his mind, at least for the time being.

And maybe he would see Dumbledore about getting out of Hogwarts.

* * *

"Detention," Professor Snape said.

"Detention won't help her," Professor Sprout said, frowning at him. "She isn't making trouble deliberately."

"Her homework has not been up to par and she nearly melted a cauldron yesterday," he said. "Then Longbottom, of all people, had to rescue her potion! At least he prevented an explosion instead of causing one." He made a face. "I actually had to award a point to Gryffindor. Of course, I took points away for the almost-accident." He ended with a smirk.

"Maybe you should speak with her, Albus," Professor McGonagall said. "She swore in class today, and on Monday she was one of the last to perform the spell correctly."

"The poor little know-it-all," the Potions Master sneered. "I am concerned about the safety of my classroom. If she continues to be a liability I will ban her from brewing."

"Now, let's not be so drastic," the headmaster said, raising his hands. "I am sure this is just the stress of NEWTs."

"Perhaps Minerva should talk to her," Professor Flitwick said. "She is the Head of Gryffindor, after all, and the deputy-headmistress."

"If it will help," she said

"Just wait," Dumbledore said. "It will all work out in time, I'm sure."

"Not at the expense of my cauldrons…"

"Quiet, Severus," Professor Vector said. "This is important."

"Miss Granger has yet to crack under the stress of exams," he said. "No doubt she is simply having 'boy troubles'."

Dumbledore looked at him. "What makes you say that?"

"Observation. She has been happier lately, more so than I have ever seen her. Just over a week ago she appeared to be anticipating something; and now she has lost all that spirit, most likely through some disappointment."

"She _has_ lost her spark," Professor Sinistra said. "So what do we do?"

"Things will sort themselves out," Dumbledore insisted. "Wait and see."

The teachers looked at each other, far from satisfied.

* * *

The house elves were amazed that Peeves was now human. They eagerly served him all sorts of food, but they all tasted the same to him. His first chance to sample food and he wasn't in the mood to enjoy it. He wasn't in the mood to enjoy anything; even scaring students had lost its colour.

"I want to die," he muttered. Several house elves looked up in alarm and began to protest. He rested his head in one hand. "No, it's not your fault, so don't you dare punish yourselves, all right?" He sighed. "It's me. It's my fault."

* * *

"We haven't heard from Peeves in a few days," the Fat Friar said. He and the Grey Lady had called a meeting of the Hogwarts spirits in the Astronomy Tower. "Have any of you seen him?"

"No," the Bloody Baron said. "Nor do we wish to. Why are we discussing this?"

"Because he may be planning something bigger than we had imagined when he began to behave strangely," the Grey Lady replied. "Is that a good enough reason for you?"

"None of that, now," Nick said. "This is important. And there is also the matter of that stranger."

"Stranger?"

"A man has been seen about the castle a few times, but then he seems to disappear."

"What does he look like?" the Baron asked.

"Brown hair, blue eyes, average height, probably in his twenties, thirties at a stretch. I approached the headmaster about it the first time I saw him, but he was very evasive."

"So it may or may not be part of Peeves' prank," the Lady said.

"If it is, the headmaster must be in on it," the Friar said, floating higher. "And if that is the case, then it cannot be harmful."

"Dumbledore's made mistakes before," the Baron reminded them darkly.

* * *

**So has he indeed made a mistake? Meh. Who cares?**

**Review, review, review!**


	17. Heartbreak

"Heartbreak"

More tales poured in. The Head Girl was unhappy and disinterested; the staff and students were becoming paranoid over the poltergeist's supposed absence; Professor Snape was having to brew more Calming Draughts, among other potions; a strange man had been seen a few times. Why wasn't the headmaster _doing_ anything?

"I'm sorry about all of this," Peeves said, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the arms of the chair, his eyes darting around the room. "I know that this is all my fault. Don't you think that I would turn back time if I could? It's just…"

He slumped back in defeat. Dumbledore eyed him from the other side of the desk.

"You did bring about a terrible predicament," he said. "Yet I feel that there is much you are holding back from me. One of the most troubling aspects was that our Head Girl – Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake! – allowed herself to be led on, seduced beyond the point of reason. Had I known that she could be this irresponsible and weak she never would have been given such a position of authority. Now she has lost all life, so it seems." His frown deepened, his eyebrows lowering further over his half-moon spectacles. "Peeves, I knew that you were made to misbehave, but to be so callous… This is unspeakable."

"I know!" he shouted. "Everything night I torture myself with the knowledge that I have hurt her so badly. You know, for someone who has worked so hard these last few months to obtain a body," he tilted his head to look out the window, "I'm certainly most eager to get rid of it. No doubt my presence in Hogwarts is the cause of Hermione's grief."

"No," Dumbledore said. "You are the cause of her initial grief; your presence is what is causing it to linger. But," he sighed, "it would be risky to see if you could leave the castle. You owe your existence to Hogwarts."

"I owe it to Hermione," Peeves said softly. They both knew what the other meant.

"Nevertheless, until I am certain that it is safe for you to leave, you must remain. Please keep the wandering to a minimum."

"Your headship," he said, "I'm used to having the run of the castle. It's always been like that. Do you expect me to stay caged in until I can seek my liberty in a more complete way, perhaps in foreign lands? Anything to avoid… _her_." He was back to scrunching up where he sat, maintaining eye contact with his hands. "Gods, I've made a mess of things, over and over."

Dumbledore tapped his lips with one finger.

"What do you plan to do about them?" he asked. Peeves shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe Fred and George Weasley have a place for me in their joke shop?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I don't think that any school or workplace in the wizarding world is quite ready for that yet," he said. The despondent man opposite merely half-smiled briefly.

"I should go," he said, standing. "Maybe I'll go to the library. She'll be going to Hogsmeade with her friends today."

It was now two weeks since their argument. School life had continued; yet it felt as though his life – his so very short life – was crumbling around him. With each passing second, he noted as he left the headmaster's office, another piece of his small world broke away or broke down. He had lost Hermione long ago, more than three hundred and thirty-six hours ago. Yep. Just over a fortnight ago.

* * *

Hogwarts was in a slump; literally. Hagrid observed this one day as he walked up to the castle. As soon as he got into the Great Hall for breakfast his voice boomed down the staff table to Professor Dumbledore.

"Did yeh notice tha' the school's bent out o' shape?" he asked. Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up.

"What do you mean, Hagrid?" he said, just loud enough for the half-giant to hear.

"The building's sort o'… well, p'raps it's best if yeh `ave a look fer yerself. It jus' seems shorter, an' less straight than it used teh be."

By now most of the students were listening. The rest were discussing what Hagrid had just said. Even Hermione and Ginny were paying attention.

"How did we only just hear about this?" the headmaster asked. "We will examine the situation after breakfast."

Sure enough, the castle was a bit bent in at the side, curving as though… well, really as though it were a person slumping over in defeat. Nobody had ever seen anything like it. At least The Burrow was meant to look the way it did, and at least it was angular. None of this melancholy air.

"I wonder if Hogwarts is sad," Luna said. Harry slid his arm around her waist.

"It wasn't even like this during or after the war. Even in the last battle the school just took each hit," he said. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Have you ever read about something like this happening?"

"There's nothing in _Hogwarts: a History_ about this," she said, sweeping her hand to indicate the whole castle. "There are no recorded events of the structure behaving like this."

"Maybe this was the big prank that Peeves was planning!" someone suggested.

"Nah," another replied. "It isn't spectacular enough. Wouldn't he do something flashy?"

"Hogwarts could be retaliating." Yet more people joined the argument.

"Maybe he ran out of new material…"

"Could be sick of playing jokes…"

"What? Peeves? You've gotta be kidding…"

Hermione, sick of hearing about him, hurried back into the castle. She had Charms in less than twenty minutes; and, despite the fact that everyone else would probably be late, she just… wasn't in the mood.

Though this was probably the closest to being involved in her schoolwork that she had been for over two weeks.

* * *

"I'm getting a sense of déjà vu," Peeves said, smiling half-heartedly. Dumbledore's head was resting on his steepled fingertips.

"I am not angry with you," he said. "I am concerned. You have so long been a part of Hogwarts that I fear that your emotions are affecting it. Yet never, until today, have I seen anything of this magnitude. Even when you were apparently contemplating suicide." Peeves just shrugged, looking at the floor. "My son, what has brought you to so low a point as this?"

He looked up at the headmaster, eyes wide. "Oh, Albus." His voice was hoarse. Dumbledore's heart ached for the man. "If you'd seen what I saw last night…" He placed his head in his hands. "I… I…"

"What is it? What happened?"

Peeves moved his hands away. "I have not told you the full story, have I?"

"Then tell me."

"It… it all started when I realised that my life – well, my existence – had no meaning. You see, I was about to dump a vat of dishwater on some seventh year Ravenclaws who were having a loud conversation in one of the second floor corridors. But imagine when, to my surprise, I was beaten to the punch by some fourth year Hufflepuffs. They used a Weasley product to create a mini-swamp around the Ravenclaws. D'you remember that?"

"Vaguely," he said. "Filius spoke to me about it."

"That day I decided to become human, using a method that had been successful in the past. Ghouls have tried it before," he added, but Dumbledore didn't comment. "Uh, it didn't work."

"Continue."

"With…? Oh, yes. Hermione seemed to be the perfect solution: powerful, single, a virgin and with her own room. I began with seduction, primarily so that I could find out if she really was pure. Then I knew that I would have to woo her. And yet… as time went on, I began to forget my original goal, or at least my original motive. As… as time went on," his voice broke, "I only wanted to be alive to be with her properly. I wanted to give her a human to l-love, and I wanted a real heart so that I could r-return that… that love." He ended on a whisper, sinking back into the seat. Dumbledore was glad that he had summoned the former poltergeist to his office after dinner.

"Has it only just hit you?" he asked quietly. Peeves shook his head slowly, and then nodded.

"Yes and no. It… it was last night that everything crashed down around me. You see," he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clutching his trembling hands together as he composed himself, "Hermione had told me to stay away from her. But I couldn't help myself. I went to her rooms – invisible, of course – and saw that she was alone in the head common room. I could hear MacMillan practising incantations in his room."

"Well?" Dumbledore prompted when Peeves didn't show signs of continuing. He seemed to shake himself.

"Right," he murmured. "Well, I moved closer. Hermione was by the… the fireplace. And beside her, she had…" He blinked back threatening tears. "Everything I had made for her. The quill, the paper sculptures, the drawings… _everything_!" he shouted, standing up. "She just burnt it all, as if I'd meant nothing to her!" He waved his arms, kicking back the chair as he paced. "The only gifts that I could give to her. She had even kept a flower from each bouquet, and… and she burnt those, too."

"Oh, Peeves. I am so sorry."

"How can people do this?" he asked, turning to the headmaster, his expression one of confusion. "How can they live? How can… how can couples have children, thus condemning them to… existence?"

He shook his head violently and threw himself back into the chair. He drew his knees up and hugged them to his body. He had never been so vulnerable.

"I… don't know what to suggest," the headmaster said. He watched as Peeves finally broke down, sobbing silently into the robes covering his legs.

The headmaster's office wasn't the only place in Hogwarts witnessing drama at that moment…

* * *

**Where else shall we go to see angst? Just wait and see, dear readers! By the way, thank you for being so supportive, considering that public opinion swayed in quite a different direction, so to speak.**

**[And please review.]**

**Two more points, while I think about it. One, more delay in them getting back together means more story for you (though things will move quite swiftly now), and two… I've forgotten. I'll get back to you on that one.**

**Oh! That's right. What should the name of this ship be called? I've got an interesting little one-shot in mind for this pair, assuming that I get around to writing it, so please vote, or add in your own suggestions. Here's what I've got so far:**

**Hereeves**

**Permione**

**Greeves**

**Please, no suggestions of 'herpes', if at all possible…**


	18. Confession

**Warning: Yes, yes. I know. Only it's almost-swearing in this chapter, but the word is very clearly implied.**

"Confession"

_Around the same time_

"I feel terrible," Hermione said. She was curled up on the couch, staring into the fireplace. She remembered the thing she had done the previous day. It hadn't helped at all. Nothing worked. "Usually I'd go to Ginny with my problems, the ones I can only talk about with another girl. But she's had her own troubles, and I've been neglecting her."

"You've been busy," Ernie said, looking at her over the top of his textbook.

"No," she said, shaking her head furiously. "That's not it at all. Just after her troubles started my life seemed to be going in a… a _wonderful_ direction. It was like we were both only going all right, and then as soon as her life started to go wrong mine started to go more… more right than it ever has! Yet now that everything's gone down the shi…"

"Hermione!"

"Drain, you'd almost expect Ginny's luck to get better," she said. "But it hasn't. I went to Gryffindor Tower before, but she seemed as disinterested as she was during dinner. I don't know what to do about her."

"I know she's your friend, Hermione," Ernie said, "but you've got to remember that your loyalties are towards the whole school now. You can't just seek out to solve your friends' problems; they have to come to you, just like everyone else."

"Yeah, I know," she said, kicking the coffee table absent-mindedly. Ernie sighed and began to pack up.

"You're great company tonight," he remarked. "Look, why don't we ask the house elves to bring something up to us? We could have a kind of party – or at least tea."

Hermione considered this. However, before she could decide someone entered the room.

"Miss Granger, I wish to speak with you," Professor McGonagall said. She glanced at Ernie. "We could go to your room…"

"It's all right, professor," he said, holding up his hands. "I was just about to take this to my room. I can finish studying in there, since Hermione won't need the company."

"Thanks, Ernie," Hermione said. He smiled at her, almost affectionately, and left them alone. Professor McGonagall sat in the opposite armchair.

"Hermione," she said, "what is _wrong_ with you?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, profess…"

"You know perfectly well to what I am referring! Is it the stress of schoolwork? The NEWTs are still months away. Is it Christmas? Are there problems at home? Have you been harassed by any of the students here? Or teachers?"

"No, professor," she said, studying her feet carefully. "Nothing like that."

"Then why are you so… unlike yourself?"

"It's… it's nothing…"

"And don't tell me that it's nothing, young lady," McGonagall said, the feather on her hat quivering as she stared at her student sternly. "I know you well. You were brighter than ever, and now you have changed dramatically. Tell me what is wrong."

They sat in silence, the Transfiguration mistress looking at the Head Girl. Finally, Hermione cracked.

"I fell in love," she whispered.

"You did? Why, that's wonderful! Why aren't you pleased?"

"I was," she said. McGonagall frowned.

"Did he hurt you? Was it all a practical joke?"

"You could say that." She folded her arms, once more gazing into the flames from her place on the couch. "I was certainly played for a fool."

"Who was it?"

She sighed. "It was… it was Peeves."

McGonagall's eyes widened to comic proportions. "The poltergeist?"

"Yes."

"He tricked you?"

"Y-yes." Hermione sniffled, but she blinked back the tears again. _He's not worth crying over_, she reminded herself. "He gave me presents, he wrote to me, he spoke to me, he… he seduced me." She looked down at her lap in shame. "I fell for it all. I fell for him. Like some lovesick idiot I kept every gift, even saved some flowers, and the notes that we wrote to each other. He knew so much. He would kiss me, he would cuddle me, he would use his fingers to…" She blushed furiously. Her teacher was also bright red.

"I see," she said, avoiding eye contact with her student.

"I'm sorry, professor. I've failed you."

"Just… continue with your story, my dear."

"Very well." Hermione breathed deeply. "As time went on I fell in love. I knew… no, I _thought_ that he was the one. It even made sense; he was intelligent, witty, didn't care about what I looked like, gave me so much pleasure, left presents for me, even helped me come to terms with Crookshanks' death. No one else had ever shown such interest, not even Viktor. And when… and when I was with him – with Peeves – he made me feel like I was the most important thing in his world. In a way," she snorted, "I guess I was. He used me to become human."

"Peeves is now a _human_?" Professor McGonagall said, sitting forward. "When did this happen? _How_ did this happen?"

"Uh, fifteen days ago. I foolishly got carried away. If… if a powerful witch willingly gives her virginity to a poltergeist then that poltergeist can take human form."

"Oh, Hermione. Surely you…" McGonagall shook her head. "My poor girl."

"And now he's alive, and I feel dead inside," she said. "Or, at least, I _think_ I do. You see," she placed a hand on her chest to control her breathing, "I… we forgot to cast the Spell. When we told Professor Dumbledore, he gave me a potion, but it was more than twelve hours after… after…"

"Yes, quite," the professor said. She cleared her throat and looked pityingly on the miserable young woman before her. "Is there any m… Wait a moment. You told the headmaster?"

"Yes. He had to be informed, you see, what with Hogwarts not having a poltergeist anymore."

"And he didn't see fit to tell me." She shook her head. "Never mind that. So do you believe that you are pregnant?"

"I don't know. I might be. I'm going to check with Madame Pomfrey tomorrow."

"Good. Good girl."

"Thanks." Hermione half-smiled, but the smile dropped immediately. "I thought that I could get over it. After all, he never really loved me. So I…"

"You?"

"I made copies of every physical thing that he made for me; even the flowers. Then I burned each Simulacrum in this very fireplace," she gestured, "in the hope that I could forget what happened, or at least get over him."

"Did it work?"

"…No."

"Perhaps if you had burnt the real things…"

"But don't you see?" Hermione stood up, waving her arms. "I couldn't do that! He made those things for me, things that he knew I would enjoy. And, professor, you should _see_ how artistic they are." She ran a hand through her wild hair. "He's so talented. He's amazing, incredible…" Her face crumpled as she finally allowed tears to surface. "All for m-me." She lost control. "And I still l-love him… and I always w-will, damn him!"

She collapsed to her knees and buried her face in Professor McGonagall's robes. Great big sobs wracked her small body as she cried for the first time in… oh, in months, it seemed.

"That's right, dear," the deputy headmistress crooned, stroking her head. "Just let it out. That's the best way. Tell me, have you not cried before now?"

"No, of course not," Hermione managed to say. "He broke my heart. W-why should he d-deserve my t-tears? I keep telling m-myself that he's n-not worth crying over." She covered her face in the heavy cloth again, trying to muffle the sounds of her weeping.

"Your heart is worth it, though," McGonagall said.

"And the worst p-part of it is that I would do it all again in a heartbeat, just to feel that pure happiness once more."

She pushed Hermione away gently. "Go to bed, Hermione. Now that you've let out your grief you might feel better in the morning, yes?" She nodded reluctantly. "Then get to bed. I must go and see the headmaster."

Hermione didn't hear her; merely waited until her professor was gone before dragging herself back onto the couch. Homework would save her; homework would take her mind off things.

* * *

…**Or not. But we'll see that soon enough, yes? Yes.**

**Please review, dear ones! I need the support, especially as I still need a job. I have a friend who's been looking for work since the middle of last year, so I hold out very little hope indeed. Please cheer me up!**


	19. Too Late for Some

**Warning: More swearing. Again, by my standards. (Why do I do this?) **

"Too Late for Some"

_Also around about the same time_

Ron watched his sister. Without Hermione to look at anymore he had to make do with checking to see if Ginny was okay. What he saw was not good.

"Bloody hell," he said as she made another dismal play in their game of Wizard's Chess. "Maybe you would've been better off with Harry."

"Well, _he_ chose Luna," she said, tilting her head in sarcastic defiance as she leant forward to have another turn.

"Oi, oi, oi!" he said, batting her hand away. "Merlin's balls, Gin. Where's your mind been lately?"

"Nowhere you want to visit," she said waspishly. He held up his hands in surrender.

"All right, all right," he said, and he returned his attention to the game. "Pity, though."

"Well, Harry must just prefer blondes," she muttered. "I really thought that we might have had a future, but then something just happened. Worst of all, I don't even know what I did."

"Oh." Ron looked away with a quick movement, tapping his knees. "Uh, yeah. Hmm."

"Maybe I'm just not meant for that sort of happiness," she said. "I just don't think that there's anyone else out there for me. I really was – _am_ – in love with Harry Potter."

"You probably just fancied him because of who he was, not who he is."

"What?"

"Well, you heard about him growing up," he said, making another good move. "You just fancied the idea of him, not… not the real Harry."

"I was fascinated by him, I'll admit that," she said, sitting up straight and forgetting the game as she looked at her brother intently. "Then I saw him at the station on your first day going to Hogwarts. I only noticed that he was Harry Potter because I saw him. I mean, nobody knew what he would look like at that age, except for his scar. Well, I guess maybe the people who knew his parents." She tapped her foot. "But I fell in love with him at first sight, and then I saw the scar, and then… and then he was your friend, and I was intimidated because of his reputation, yes."

Ron cast a Muffliato, since Ginny's raised voice was starting to attract unwanted attention, including from Harry and Luna who were studying together.

"Keep it down, Ginny," he said.

"But then I got to know him better, and it was like a schoolgirl crush. He was – _is_ – cute, and handsome, and kind of smart, and really good at Quidditch. Yes, he saved the world; but he did it because of who he is. He would have fought without that damned prophecy telling him that he had to, simply because it was _right_."

Ron looked ashamed. "Ginny, I should probably tell you…"

"Save it," she said, standing up. "I'm tired of playing. I'm going to bed."

"Uh, Ginny?" Harry said, following her. He grabbed her arm, but she yanked it out of his grasp.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"Listen," he said. "I know we haven't spoken much lately, and I'm guessing that it has something to do with Luna."

She glanced over his head at the blonde, who was smiling vaguely in their direction. "How much did you hear?"

"Actually, it was Ron glancing over at us that sort of gave it away," he said. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Great," she said. "So what?"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know," he said, "that, uh…"

"Just say it, Harry."

"Fine!" he said. He hurriedly lowered his voice. "I really do care about you, Ginny. I have for ages. I… care _for _you. It's just that I'm with Luna now, and I really like her. I just," he noticed Ginny's haunted expression, "thought I should tell you. And now I'm thinking that that was a _really_ bad idea. Sorry." He backed away and Ginny resumed her trek to the girls' dormitories. But this time Luna stopped her.

"I know sort of what Harry was saying," she said. Ginny gritted her teeth.

"Oh yes?"

"Ginny, I know how you feel about him; most people know. And he loves you back, I'm sure of it. Whenever we're together he talks too much about Quidditch, and nearly nothing about _The Quibbler_, or any of the creatures that people like Hermione don't believe exist. He treats me like he would treat you."

"Oh, come on, Luna," she said. "If he really felt like that about me, why did he make _you_ his girlfriend?"

"Harry didn't want to be lonely," Luna said, shrugging. "I was really the next best thing, I suppose."

"But _why_? Was he… was he scared of me or something?" Ginny asked. Luna's usual sincerity was in place. "Tell me, please!"

"I think your brother can explain," she said. "Just don't be too hard on him. It was Harry's fault that he chose to… well, you'll see."

Luna walked back to Harry. Ron chose that moment to approach his younger sister, who glared at him.

"What. Did. You. Do?" she asked in a deadly whisper. He turned paler than usual.

"You're my sister, Gin," he whispered, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. "I really thought that you only liked him for the wrong reasons, and I thought that Harry liked you for the wrong reasons, too. You know, with the red hair like his mother, and being my sister. Like how I was supposed to be with Hermione. Only she seems to be moping over this secret admirer of hers." He shook his head, but couldn't avoid Ginny's piercing stare.

"I asked you a question, Ronald, and you'd better answer it."

"I… sort of… warned him off," he said, looking away. He couldn't bear to see her face at this moment. "Gave him the idea that being with you would be a bad thing, that you didn't feel strongly enough about h…"

SMACK!

Ron held his hand to his smarting cheeks, looking at his sister's angry and hurt eyes.

"You arse, Ronald Weasley!" she shrieked. "You ruined _everything_! Now I've had to pay the price for my bitterness, and it's cost me big time." He took a step back. Everyone was listening. "I've got to live with what happened the rest of my life." She shook her head. "I just hope that Hermione has better luck. It's too late for me."

She turned around and tore up the stairs, leaving behind a stunned roomful of Gryffindors.

* * *

**Last chapter coming up. I look forward to hearing your final comments. There will only be four players in the next chapter, since Ernie will still be in his room, thus leaving an empty stage for the finale.**

**See you then!**


	20. True Happiness is Found

"True Happiness is Found"

_So it continues_

"Albus Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall thundered, barging into his office. She strode over to his desk, ignoring the man in the chair beside her. "Will you explain to me _why_ you neglected to mention the real reason for Hermione Granger's depression?"

"Calm down, Minerva," Dumbledore said, but she was having none of it.

"Do you know what that girl's just told me?" she asked. She barrelled on before he could reply. "She just told me that Peeves – the poltergeist of Hogwarts! – tricked her into helping him become human!"

"I know that," he said. "Then she…"

"I don't want any excuses! Did you know that she fell in love with him?" Dumbledore nodded unnecessarily. "That she may be _pregnant_ by him?"

"Who else?"

She looked about ready to explode. "She isn't supposed to be pregnant by _anyone_! She is the Head Girl of Hogwarts, and – until now – the best student we have had in decades. Now the stupid poltergeist has gone and broken her heart, broken her spirit, and may have ruined her reputation in the most complete way." She missed the choked noise from the chair next to her. "He has been utterly remorseless."

"Now, Minerva, you don't know the whole story…"

"I don't need to know! She went as far as making copies of his gifts to burn them." His blue eyes shot open. "Do you want to know _why_ she made copies?"

"Very much so," he said, leaning forward. His gaze darted to the man sitting opposite, but Minerva ignored the action yet again.

"Because the poor girl is still in love with him," she said. "She even said that she would suffer the same pain again as long as she felt the happiness again, too."

"She said that?" a voice asked.

McGonagall finally gave her attention to the young man slowly lowering his feet to the floor.

"Yes," she replied. "She did."

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, "please allow me to introduce to you… Peeves."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, speechless. Peeves slowly looked away, smiling.

"She loves me," he whispered. He grinned at Dumbledore and leapt to his feet. "She loves me!" He punched the air and ran for the door. As soon as it was shut behind him McGonagall sank down into the newly-vacated chair.

"Albus," she said, her voice weak, "that was really Peeves?"

"Yes, Minerva," he said.

They jumped in their seats as Peeves ran back into the room.

"May I use your fireplace, headmaster? Thank you!"

Without waiting for an answer he doused the flames, stepped into the fireplace and shot through the Hogwarts intra-floo network. McGonagall turned back to the headmaster.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"I told you that you didn't know the whole story," he said.

"Well, why don't you tell me?"

"First of all, I must say this: he loves her desperately."

"_He_ loves _Hermione_?"

"Of course. Otherwise the magic never would have worked."

"Wha…?"

"Minerva, you know as well as I do that Hermione is intelligent," Dumbledore said. "However, she only gets things right because she does them the correct way. Defence Against the Dark Arts requires the most real power, yet she is not as proficient in that class. Why do you think that is? It is because she is not actually powerful. She is merely… accurate." He continued. "Now, when I say 'powerful' I mean magically. Her real power is in love; and it is love that brought him to life. He even fell for her before he had a real body. Does that not speak of love of the most powerful nature?"

McGonagall nodded slowly. "It does."

"Now, let me tell you all that I know of the story…"

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Peeves hopped out of the fireplace into the Head Boy and Girl common room. Hermione was reading from a book that was lying open on the coffee table.

With a powerful burst of magic he sent the table – and everything on it – to the other side of the room. Her head jerked up, eyes wide with fear and hand moving towards her wand. When she saw who it was she tensed further. Not one muscle moved as he stalked towards her.

Without a word of warning Peeves pulled her into his arms and took her lips in a furious kiss. He crushed her body to his, hoping to melt her rigidity.

_Come on, damn you_, he thought. She still didn't respond. Slowly, he pulled back. Her eyes had remained open, watching him in… what was it? Fear? Disbelief? Horror?

_She doesn't want me_.

He stepped back and relinquished her hands.

"Hermione, I owe you a thousand apologies," he said quietly. "More than that. One for every crime against you, every second wasted because of my deception, every moment of regret you have and will suffer because… because of me." He couldn't draw his eyes away from her. "Somewhere along the way, I forgot what I was doing. _I_ no longer mattered; it wasn't about me becoming human."

"What was it about?" she asked, her voice husky. She cleared her throat. "What… what was it about?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "I love you." He opened them again and got lost in the watery brown depths of her own. "Only you, Hermione. I would give you the world… gods, that's cliché." He shook his head, seemingly breaking some sort of spell. "There are no original words for what I want to say. Just that… that I'm so very sorry that I've ruined your life like this. Please know that," he coughed to dislodge the lump in his throat, "you at least made me happy – _very_ happy – for one night. I'll remember the way you made me feel until my last day upon this earth."

He turned to leave; but as soon as he saw the fireplace he remembered why he had found the courage to come.

"Wait," she whispered.

"What am I doing?" he muttered. He turned around, only to get the shock of his life when he saw her standing so close. "Hermione…"

"You've made your declaration," she said. "Now let me make mine."

"You…" He paused, thinking quickly. "All right." _I'd much rather hear it from her_, he thought, fighting a grin. She fidgeted where she stood. Any amusement he felt, however, dissipated as soon as she took his hands in hers.

"Can we sit down?" she asked. He nodded and allowed himself to be led over to the couch. Both sat with one foot on the floor, the other leg curled up beside them. Peeves watched Hermione carefully as she continued to hold his hands, even stroking the skin.

"What is it you wished to say, Hermione?" he said. She bit her lip as she looked up at him.

"Say it again," she said.

"What?"

"My name. Please say it again."

"Hermione." He put as much feeling as he could into it, leaning down slightly. He could see that her lips were still red from his earlier assault. If she really did love him, then why…?

"I've been scared," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "I've never had a real boyfriend; Viktor was the closest thing to that, and we really only studied together and went to the Yule Ball. He was the first boy ever to see me as a girl. But then, as I got older, I wanted to be seen as… as a woman." She blushed. "I didn't really know – well, I _did_, but I didn't want to acknowledge it in the face of my studies…"

"Calm down," he said. "You're babbling."

"Thanks." She looked away, but quickly returned her attention to him. "I wanted romance; I wanted someone who could discuss something that wasn't Quidditch; I wanted someone who could make me forget that I'm not as pretty as the other girls…"

"Hermione, you're _beautiful_!" he said, freeing one of his hands and raising it to caress her cheek. "You put them to shame."

"No, I don't…"

"Have you really been this insecure about your body _all this time_?" She nodded. "Oh, Hermione." He pulled her close enough to kiss her forehead. He stroked her hair. "Don't think that. Don't you ever dare think that. You're perfect."

"Um…" He swiftly let her go. "Let's just… not discuss it, okay?"

"If you insist."

"I do. I…" She got caught up in his gaze. The words were having difficult in coming out. "I love you, Peeves. You're everything I want. You're everything I need, and I'll always be y…"

He didn't let her finish. Before she could draw breath he yanked her into his lap for a kiss, a kiss that lasted several heart-stopping seconds. They had to break for air, panting and gazing at each other. Hermione got lost in his eyes.

"I should have considered your feelings," he said, rubbing her back as he kept her pressed close. "In my defence, a poltergeist generally has an emotional range smaller than Ronald Weasley's."

Hermione laughed and hugged him tightly. "I should have thought of that," she said. "I was so busy trying to solve the mystery _and_ get my work done that I completely overlooked what should have been obvious."

"I'm affronted at the thought that I wasn't being subtle." His eyes sparkled as he looked up at her, though, and she knew that everything would be all right.

Well, maybe not everything.

"Peeves," she said softly, "what if I'm pregnant? I-I never planned it, but… but at the time I wanted it, desperately. I felt as though I'd die if…"

"I know."

"You're the only one I could ever picture fathering my children." She blushed further. "So what do I do if it turns out that…?"

He kissed her gently, cupping her cheek. As soon as they separated he smiled at her.

"I'll be so proud to help you in any way that I can," he said. "We will marry as soon as possible, and I'll find some way to support our family. Then we'll all live happily ever after, just like in those Muggle fairytales I've heard about." He laughed, shaking his head. "I thought that I'd be spending Christmas alone."

"You won't be," she said, tears sliding down her cheeks again. She let them. "But are you going to ask me properly? No, no!" she exclaimed, clutching onto him as he began to move. "I was only joking. I'd love to marry you, and have the happily ever after, and as many children as we can handle." She tilted her head. "There's just one thing I want to ask."

"Mmm-hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, making her thoughts a bit hazy. But one managed to swim to the surface.

"Uh… what name are you going to use?"

THE END

* * *

**I apologise for any repetitiveness, especially in the last few chapters. But it's so difficult to decide: to show, not tell or not to show, not tell. Uh… or something like that.**

**You see, if I just wrote that 'Professor McGonagall then relayed the conversation to Dumbledore' then that's telling, not showing, which – according to our creative writing teachers – is wrong. I tried to vary phrases as much as possible. Hmm.**

***Smacks self on hands***

**Please review! And let me know if you want any more unusual pairings, either with Hermione or without. And I refuse to write any Draco/someone else fics, because I dislike him intensely… as you know.**

**You can decide for yourselves whether or not Hermione is pregnant. And if you want a sequel please let me know, and whether she should be pregnant in the sequel (at least pregnant from their one time in this story.) Ooh, and name suggestions for the male lead are fine, but we have to keep the name 'Peeves' in some way. Just sayin'.**


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